the vine spirals
Bound and wound about the temple’s rod
It’s dribbling a
sickly teal stream
Gurgling with spite and
mirth

Cocooned in
mystery,
Darts of birds fell on
me

Whispering one name over
And over
solidifying into a chant
Booming to the farthest barn
and swirling around
The closest farm

Children sent reeling, keeling
Onto the ***** dank floor

I can hear it now.

“The Raven King”