The devil at the crossroads
I can't afford it.
Come to the crossroads full of wild chrysanthemums, bury
the cat's bones, my picture and the dirt from the grave.
I don't go east, I don't go west, I don't go south, I don't go north, I'm
going to take the fifth road at the crossroads.
Whether it leads to heaven or to hell,
I don't know.
The devil at the crossroads, the fallen angels, the ancient witch gods, they are using the corpses of those who have rotted for thousands of years, walking in the world under the sky and the sun.
And why did I wriggle my body and dance with them?