Teen Ink

   I sit, caged in an auto-da-f".

The raging fires glaze from her skinny corpse.

The mop of death-black hair

Covering her pruned Hecatic face.

Those squinting eyes,

And the smirk

Make me shudder.

That nose, like a vulture seeking out foul smells

Then discloses all discoveries to that

Hairy man from Hell.

As she sweeps past,

I feel the scorching heat of her presence

And wonder,

English teacher or Satan?

You be the judge.