An iron pan is burning; the witch
has left her house. The children
walk hand in hand through a
forest of reagents. In the subterranean
world, bolts of silk, yellow pills
and moths the size of dinner plates.
You said you wish to practice yoga
with baby goats? The witch is back,
pan still burning, the stars
can’t wait for their sacrifice.
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[An iron pan is burning; the witch]
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