Sybil

This frail squint eyed woman She wears the crown She goes around town Her hair matted and coiled like entrails. Pass her on She’s your brother’s hand-me-downs. This dark-skinned immigrant from an old barren distant land feeds on this town’s useless information. She laughs so hard it stings. She is simple and decisive. “You will never learn a god damned thing” “You are a sad song that played too long” “I’m in demand…ask all your friends.” “What a shameful game she played” “Don’t you remember yesterday’s embers?” “Show me your army..” “Where do you go when no one’s watching you?” “Wish I had another stab at your pale face” “Whatever keeps you warm at night.” This warm grainy palm On the rusty banister Is the grand vestibule to our small town.