“Your professional—ha!—diagnosis, Doctor Witch?”
The Doctor chants a quiet prayer
for the dead,
double gloves his hands
for the living,
examines what’s left of the corpse, and speaks the words:
“Flesh ripped from bone,
bone fragments ivorying the jetty…
I say he was killed by the Full Moon.”
Are you seriously thinking
call a real man of science;
this witch doctors will never do.
“Cloud not my science
with your superstition, man;
Witch I am not, but named Doctor Witch.
No werewolves here,
but there is syzygy
and lack of respect for the line dancing of Sun, Earth and Moon—
The man spreads his arms towards the heavens.
“It’s October, for God’s sake;
the middle of Fall.
Spring won’t come until way after Christmas.”
“There is also lack of knowledge
and stark ethnocentricity;
talk some, listen more, share yourself
with many different others—
get cultured, man.”
“I need no culture,
just a cause of death;
do your job, witch doctor.”
“Doctor Witch, not a Witch;
remember it, man, and kiss your luck.
The surfer’s life was taken
by the might of the high tides.
I already told you.”
“You said werewolves!”
“No, man, you said werewolves.
I said Full Moon, a syzygy, spring tides…
Besides, the packs around this area
value and respect their lives;
they would never hunt at my shoreline.
Note: I rarely post twice on the same day. But Kerry mentioned “Superstition and Science...” I couldn’t resist. I felt the pull, and had to fly to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. I hope you enjoy the spell that dances within the poem of my scientific storytelling *tee-hee*. And if you missed the Witches in Fiction latest update, click on the link to read the previous post.
waves storm moon