Bibliobella waited at the stake.
Her hands tied behind her back. Her head shaved.
Smoke rose from under her feet. A young girl
cried. Bibliobella heard a dog roar.
She met her fate screaming at an evil man
promoting the virtues of stupidity
to win an inquisitive position
about 500 or so years ago.
Before the smoke choked her she mouthed a poem
three times in three different languages.
A poem about herbs, knowledge, and magic.
When she stopped her eyes darkened as pure night.
In an alley drawing furiously
crouched a man with vestments of the clergy.
First, he outlined a painting. Then he drew
Bibliobella with bread in her hair.
Then he drew a symbol for great fire.
Next he drew a symbol for carved wood.
The crowd stirred as flames curved towards the clouds.
The crowd howled as blood-red sparks flew in waves.
Behind the chaos Bibliobella
melted from the stake hidden safely in
a drawing rolled into a tube and kissed twice.
Within the chaos the man threw the tube
next to the wooden effigy which smelled
of basil. He walked towards their village.
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