The Witch's Rosary

The Witch's Rosary

Isu Hong

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The witch’s rosary stays hidden, 

under her velvet neckline.  

 

What a scare

for a girl to stand

under the sky,

stuttering and shaking.

A scandal, with her

prophecies shushed and 

silenced.

Scorns 

searing saturations

into her skin.

“Silly girl!” they whisper,

simply seated on stools

with arms wrapped around

silver spooned stillborns.

 

Perpetually paralleled prophet girl,

gouging guts growing in diameter,

doomed, diseased, deranged.

 

Blessed by gods, you are, prophet girl.

Predicting parasocial warfare,

with no one to listen, as you yell at the sun.