Zero your scales to the burden of a lash, Dear
Justice, but let Tituba clumsy the Magistrates’
minds with a wag of her wizened index. A flight
risk near forests of the Wampanoag where Christians
savaged Queen Weetamoo’s corpse, what else might
Tituba, nonwhite and woman, haunt but a margin
of error? She’s a catbird’s song trapped in the chimney.