The witch lay a curse on me,
with the last ragged shriek of breath.
Then, the flames took on an
altogether different smell,
and though she writhed against the fraying ropes,
there was no hope.
And as the goddess fried,
we held hands and sang
of a better time, in a better place.
I felt the moon shivering,
wracked with fear for when
the sun would shine.
When Venus would rise from the ashes,
a phoenix, and love would live again.
