the cart rolled on bearing her and all
those voices mad with passion
bad for everybody else,
better that she burn and take it

that way
“just another witch in heat”
they said.

snowflakes dithered at the window
some tarried longer, spidering
the moving glass with crystal melt;

into these she projected everything
that would be gone soon,
dispersed in shockwaves generated
to disperse all scandal, neuter
the reality of one too many lovers
on the balance sheet.