A tremor of water.
The skip of a fish.
Bullfrogs splash dismally
to the abyss.
All promises offered
between one and six
seem currently haunted
by an angry bell witch
from a pool where her
waterfall dances and laughs
she threatens to drink
out men’s living by halves
If the stones that were
pocketed deep in our dreams
were deposited in
her cavern of screams
and thoughts spoken aloud
between one and six
are no longer silenced
by an angry bell witch
this all-hallows evening the
curses will lift
and houses for haunting
shall blissfully shift