Salem Church
on a warm and windless autumn nightby an eerie full moon’s glow
i watch the evil sacrifice
from the cover of tombstone rows
the fathers and sons of Salem Church
buried here since the Civil War
forgotten thru the fog of time
are called to earth once more
a circle of familiar faces
in black robes and pentagrams
surround the hooded overlord
with knife in lifted hand
i hear the animal’s piercing cry
above the heartbeat chants
and see the ghosts rise from the fire
as the high priest starts to dance
and then the air grows quiet
a demon turns and points at me
i try to run but catch my shirt
on a limb of the gallows tree
“my god, it’s really real!” i scream
inside my pulsing brain
then i wake up in tangled sheets
and try to sleep again
St. Thomas ‘88