He Wound a Noose

when they brought him
in, the same old tune stopped,
didn't play anymore, this was a
sound the Witch wrote,

one room jail
sat next door to
the harmonica maker
on one side, undertaker
on the other, a body sack,

fire flew from her
Mason, she came
through the jail door in
black, on the count of four,
fiddle started playing hot, she
took as many paces as Sagittarius
has in letters, Satan had him in fetters,

he cursed, he spat,
she kept that fiddle loud,
and then louder until the
noise made his ears bleed,
all hell broke loose, his groin
twisted in pain, his toenails dug
deep into his feet, he gathered his
sheet, wrung it tight and wound a noose,

just before she drove
him to it, she stepped up
a Zodiac closer, it got louder
and louder and louder, and she
said,

"You Son-of-a-Bitch, I'm
the best that's ever been!"

Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist