From the shit slops she grew;
we marvelled.
Such a slim, graceful beauty
from our soil,
that crystalline perfection
from our sphagnum sponge;
such iciness, hauteur.
Such a bitch, we all agreed,
yet every man longed for her gaze
to soften on him.
To be in her ice trail,
to hope to bed her;
such power over men and women:
the witch.
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