If Saul’s turn had been so dark,
then how was his crown left gleaming?
If Endor’s witch had been so stank,
with blemished skin,
nose bent to hell,
her fingers, plague-wrought lances,
then how could his posture have held the weight
of guilt on top of royalty?
Of shame balanced
on the stones of religion?
She had to be beautiful.
She had to be long and bent
over cauldron to take him in
and scream her rites
of ambition, envy, passion.
She had to be ready to squeal
his title (king) and name (blasphemer)
to make him melt
and see the whole of Hebrew future
as mere dice
to be cast and lost into missioned poison.
About Timothy Tarkelly
He has an MA in Theatre (Drama Therapy) from Kansas State University. His poems have been featured by Whisper and the Roar, Paragon Journal, Lycan Valley Press, Aphelion, Poets & War, and Fourth & Sycamore. He works for a non-profit that serves survivors of domestic and sexual violence.
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