An accomplice much pleased with herself,
maidenly tongue syrupy with lies.
This time last winter, she smiles
and makes free, no one was safe, the evil eye
roamed everywhere, looked in at every door.
And the Lords and Ladies, the Mayor
and his Men, they stood back and let
what might run riot? And ran
alongside often as not, with justifications
all the way from visions of Saint Bartholomew
to a freight of poisoned wine. No one
was safe and no one could remember
a more happy time.