Familiars

For that screen of smoke behind your eyes
Or the slightest of your clever ways
They’d have burned your bare body
In the olden days. Mean women
Persuading their husbands to murder.

They’d have tortured you first,
Each rent bated with the fervour of men
Who know they’re doing wrong.
And you’d find it funny
How seriously they worked.

And when they asked you
To name your familiars
You’d speak to each one in turn,
Spitting their spouse’s names
Through the gore in your mouth.

Teo Bozic