The Annual Witch Convention
Poem - by Ken Poyner
I wish they would find another
Hotel. This one must
Give them a discount on
The convention room, half-price
The suites for the organizers,
Keep the free breakfast well-stocked.
The owners don’t think about us.
They should recognize they are
Too close to the residential area
To hold a convention like this, and out
Of professional courtesy recommend
A property downtown, or broadly isolated.
Until they do, each year
About this time every frog
Is a cousin, a stray broom
Is not that: stray. Incantations
Are not idle, and you dare
Not burn anything in the backyard.
Bump into one of the attendees
And for weeks you wonder
If that cold or ache or sudden
Short pain is coincidence or
Directed, unconnected or revenge.
For the duration, children stay close.
You keep track of the dog, take
In your cats, serve for dinner
Only easily identifiable things. When
At last the convention breaks,
Neighbors tell each other no one
Really believes, and for another year
Take down those dreary witch balls.