The Womping Witch

From the gallows she bubbles 
Creatures and features
Of the mutty water 
God only knows 
How such pleasure 
Erupts from her wickedness

Beneath the surface 
Sacrifices are made 
To feed her trunk 
The gerth that needs filling 
Night or day 
Hope or pray 

Carcus and thinning skin 
Rot, green and brown 
Float down 
To a bellowing end 
The inevitability of fate 
Her system of governance 

On and on
Turning dark into drink 
That spawns her 
It repeats 
Taking life 
Giving life

For upon her reluctant out stretched arms, Bluetits rest
Toads hide in her darkened pockets 
Herons perch on her weary head 
And Spiders crawl on her bulging base 
All this 
Her sacrifice 

A heart does rest 
Beneath layers of crumpled leafs 
But it remains asleep and forgotten 
For her dark rhythmn 
And deathly cycle 
Is all she’ll ever know