inspiried by a photograph by Debbie Fleming Caffery title: Polly and her Chicken
She enchants me with her witchcraft,
inviting spirits from the dead.
Close your eyes move not a single muscle.
Can you hear them?
they're talking to you, calling your name.
a loud thud echo's
as a head rolls across the empty wooden floor:
pollo they call it.
The dim light is of no help to me,
and shivers slither down my spine.
Her echoing drone of song surrounds me,
accompanied by her hypnotic appearance
of mystic jewels and multicolored scarfs.
Her outrageous tongues and voodoo chants
have left me spell bound.
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