A gasp for air
from a slim bluegill.
Speckling light turns the fish into a moth
that flies into & over a hollowed human
-sized cat skull.
The last witch
breaks her fast
by stomaching foreign desires.
She spits them out, bruise-colored,
into a clear glass of ash.
This is also a performance.
Everything bruised
cannot look up or out of the void.
The procession follows
to one-way glass. A casket
under a microscope.
The witch rests
on the slender spine of a dead man’s
oldest daughter as she keels
over, repeating:
The body. The body. The body.