Summer comes dressed in tight blue. So do you,

bewitchingly. Proof that this Craft’s, “glamour,”

is more than just words. I named you: taboo,

godhead, my eldritch ne’er-do-well. You stir

in me and my cum-coked skivvies. Dour night

after night. Mirthlessly awake in bed …

so much glum cum so I named you: ghost-light,

just like religion, but with a godhead

climax. It’s been ages since I have … laughed

myself dizzy; sang, “tight blue/ tight like you;”

took to crossing and fixing. We all want

a bit of unreal; the “itch” in witchcraft;

touch of ghost-skin; to be one of the few

that you’ll gladly return to, just to haunt.