Tribute to the Goat Lady
We made fun of her- the goat lady
reclusive in her tar paper shack
like the witch and her gingerbread
house, luring neighbor kids-
Hansels and Gretels of surrounding
suburbia to her sand hill haven.
Pot boiling, voice cackling, abracadabra-
Words enchanted from parched lips
conjuring dark spells from hell.
Envisioning the smelly goats-
sacrifices to chthonian gods
deep within earth’s bowels
burning in bleating flames.
Mesmerized like Pan’s flocks
we couldn’t stay away-couldn’t,
wouldn’t leave her alone.
A constant barrage of rocks, bb’s,
Firecrackers- pelted, shot, exploded
On or around her humble abode.
Miniature Salem witch hunters- we
drove evil spirits from our playground
in the dunes.
My grandchildren,
tantalized by this tale of terror
tremble by the crackling fire.
Reading today’s news from my
armchair, the obituary pays tribute
to Maude Gresham for her generous
contribution to the UNESCO Children’s
Fund and the Christian Coalition of
Worldwide Children’s Charities.
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