“‘Tis a present for the King,”
declared the first blind crone,
“A two-mouthed serpent, a mighty thing
to drape upon his royal throne.”

“Nay, ‘tis a giant,” stated the next
“as big in height as he is around,”
and, groping, she stumbled, vexed
o’er the third blind sister on the ground.

“Tis a breeding slave,” proclaimed the third.
“Feel her pendulous belly sag.”
“’Tis a wrinkly deaf-mute with breath like a turd,”
insisted, with venom, the fourth blind hag.

Thus, each avowed such truth as touch did gain her
while together, apart, they o’er looked the elephant in the chamber.

————

Shannon Connor Winward is an old witch in the making. She fumbles, grumbles, and opines in Newark, Delaware, with appearances in such venues as Strange Horizons, Short Fast & Deadly, Flash Fiction Online, Pedestal Magazine, This Modern Writer [Pank Magazine], Hip Mama Zine and The Vestal Review.  Visit her blog at http://ladytairngire.livejournal.com.