The Witching Hour 

 

Unable to sleep and coming off drink,

It t’was the witching hour,

And not in the month of flowers,

I came to in my childhood bed with a black cat perched on the windowsill,

Then leaping quietly she curled around my neck,

She lay there for sometime purring,

As I felt her soft fur while I lay stirring,

~

 

I then turned to see a younger woman, an enchanting creature,

And she certainly had familiar features;

Red lips, pale skin, flowing ginger hair and speaking as Gaeilge,

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen,

So being keen I asked her to come closer if she did so wish,

Only for her to dismiss the idea and blow me a kiss,

 

~

 

Then I was back where I first tried to sleep,

And far from my childhood home I began to weep,

The cat crept away with back arched and tail held high,

I softly whispered, “are you even real”, and it replied ‘of course’, in a scratchy tone laden with zeal,-

Then I awoke or so I did suppose,

To be gripped in the groin while wearing no clothes,

In shock I turned to another woman of a different breed,

Who began to take a forceful lead;

 

-

 

Black hair, elongated face, body thin and a witches chin,

And while in this wayward trance,

I welcomed the awkward advance,

And soon not caring I asked for more,

Such was my state of mind at the unfortunate time,

But it soon became clear that this was wrong,

And no ordinary woman or love song,

But some inordinate ‘thing’ with a poisonous sting,

 

-

 

So now realizing the demonic presence,

I mustered all my strength to pray for penance,

And after a few Our Fathers and Hail Mary’s,

She finished and retreated into the hall,

And into the spare room which was worst of all,

So unaware of the imminent danger,

I rose to investigate the seductive stranger,

 

-

 

So with great hesitation I opened the door,

To find a baby’s cot lying on the floor,

Again she appeared shapeless in form,

Climbing the walls scantily-clad,

I screamed and threatened to call the local priest,

As I turned and fled the unruly beast,

But the neighbor tending the garden below,

Could not hear my woeful pleas,

As the drone of the motor trimmed the trees,

 

-

 

Then she pushed to end my life,

And standing there was my future wife,

Ah but no fool ever was I,

Falling not for such evil lies,

Then coming back to my very senses,

I knew the horror had relented,

For that was no true lover,

But in fact an insidious cover,

 

~

 

So when all is finally said and done,

Kafka would have shuddered,

At what I had at last discovered,

And of the sudden change in me,

This metamorphosis,

Of sorts.

 

~ Gamhain MacCionaoith

Na Cealla Beaga 

Mí Marta, 2025