• Imagine twenty-three times
    of walking down that lonely road
    that quiet road, the old crone's home.

    Imagine twenty-three times of racing,
    back and forth, back and forth in step,
    keeping pace to that savage tune
    playing as the darkness looms.

    Imagine twenty-three times just listening for--
    the clock!
    It crowed, the sun is low
    and in candlelight her visage shows.


    "Out, Out--OUT!"
    I said
    to her.