Listen Kid,
Ain’t no Italian,
Like Ex-Godmothers.
No Cauldrons Of Pasta,
Proliferating Forever.
But Pasta Is Cheap.
It Burns As Calories.
It’ll Do.
Besides,
She was fucking Catholic.
Sin follows them –
Like my flock of ghosts,
Drifts With Me.
I’m a darker-blooded Witch.
Know Most Pain.
Trauma.
Hurt.
No Cauldrons Of Pasta, Proliferating Forever.
