The Maid.

Crows in the field,
dance around a decaying maid,
as she moans and lists
from scarecrow to scarechild
cleaning their dirty hands, and faces.

Branches in her hair
tied to stay with blood & ribbons,
she takes the dustcloth
to wipe away the maggots in her womb
impregnating her with vomit and sperm.

She sings with such delight,
apples dancing in the air,
floating right above our heads,
this is the place, of a Death Gods bed.
She mumbles with such fright,
corpses dancing with the wind,
surprise, suprised to find your newest friend,
this is the way, of a Fertility Gods day.

Crows in the field,
dance around a decaying maid,
as she moans and lists,
reaching, reaching for purity
of a scarecrow and scarechild,
dirtying their hands and faces.

Mud on her dress,
and limbs in her pocket,
watch as she cleans her face
with a dustcloth filled with maggots,
crawling into her skin, feeding off the dead tissue.