The Agrippine Sibyl
siccabitur ut folium
She sees what we can’t, her eyes
grow dark and mirth leaves her.
"We all will dry up. We
all are horrible people. Filthy rags."
The red of her robe nearly glowed,
the color grew closer to crimson,
grew closed. "Like a leaf in autumn."
She puckers and blows.
A wreath of twigs, of barbs,
or thorns, and a wooden staff,
one a coronet, one a divining tool,
she says: "shrivel, wither, fade,
wane we are each of us an arid leaf."
She puckers her lips and blows.
"This is your creation.
What you’ve planted in soils
can no longer forgive you.
What you hold sacred
is what you’ve destroyed."
DeMisty D. Bellinger
DeMisty D. Bellinger's writing has appeared in many places, including including The Rumpus, The Coil, and Necessary Fiction. She is a Pushcart nominated poet and an alumna fellow of Vermont Studio Center. Her short story “The Ballad of Frankie Baker” was selected for Best Small Fictions 2019. Rubbing Elbows, her chapbook, is available from Finishing Line Press. Learn more about DeMisty at demistybellinger.com.
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