Cursed


When the moon covers his eyes,
the scorned woman with fire on her brow
and hardness in her heart,
approaches the sacred tree.
A white dress hides her black purpose.

Placing a nail with trembling reverence
she drives it into the wood.
Then nail after nail is hammered in
accompanied by her
whispered curse.

Her ex-lover sleeps fitfully,
sweat on his forehead he snaps awake.
Pinned he twists and turns
puncture wounds spreading and
staining.

When he is found he is pale white
a bloodless spirit,
a contorted shell.
His lifeless face imitating
a Noh mask.

In her garden the revenged woman
Buries her hammer and sap
coated nails in a polished
wooden box.
Burying her memories.

For what is left of the night
She sleeps.
The white dress crackles
on the hearth.
Warming her smiling face.

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