1692
by Rachel Pinkstone
The room, stuffy and dated, filled
quickly with innocents and perspiration.
The voice behind us buzzed below within
our seats, charges vicious with intent.
The lights, dramatic, accusing, and timed,
poked like God’s angry finger at the damned.
The devil’s face flashed gruesome and waxen,
ready to take his heathens below.
They played loudly her voice as she cried
out the lord’s prayers, “You are with the Devil,
now! The black man is at your back!”
Mr. Corey under boulders, Lady Nurse
dying behind bars, and the nudging
reminder to visit the gift shop. Kitchen-
witches and snow globes on sale.
We watch to learn tolerance.
We watch to avoid persecution.
We watched to receive the free Magick Wand.
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