A Witch

[Leah S.]

Edit:
There's a hill bowing alone under clouds,
woven with roots and long hair
styled with wild grasses and wildflowers:
shrinking violets, knapweed and forget-me-nots.

Come night, she arrived with bare feet
and tip-toed a slow, wandering, upwards path,
then drew back her shoulders, and sighed,
Hard. The breath left her lungs like an ass enjambment poorly chosen here, causing me to smell her ass-breath
from a dirty cage, and the hill wore the sky and then imagine an ass walking out of a cage on its butt cheeks.
as a big cape. The fabric swelled
and started crying

for her. So the clouds took her poetry
and hurried to replace it with grey fog.
Next, their rumbling stole her hunger,
reaping her belly then her treasure chest. Not sure about replacing 'heart' with 'treasure chest'. Why not just 'chest'?
Starry black fists digested it as it climbed, Your imagery has really grabbed me by now, but I don't like 'digested'. I want something to go with 'packed'. Maybe 'squeezed' or 'kneaded'?
packed it into the air, as thunder,
until she was a body as empty as a new coffin.

Like this her life’s crack-bam and zitz-zic-schrak, This is great.
cut open the night as great blades of lightening
and spilt into a storm like boiling car-oil. 'engine oil' maybe?
At each shot of the starter-pistol
races began between frights of tearing wind
which rode as horses across the flashing night.
This was her manic rapture. It stirred the sky
into a battlefield, a playground, a murderer.

So the storm's eye dropped to her knees soundlessly, Is she the storm's eye, or is she in the storm's eye? If you intended it to be ambiguous, you need to be a bit more adroit in your phrasing.
blue lips flat-lining, lids half-closed.
She pressed the length of her body,
still and white to the waves of sodden ground. Needs a comma after 'white'.
And though a storm will only last so long, Weak... How about, "Though a storm only lasts so long, time passed..."
time passed, and she grew colder.


Original:
There's a hill bowed alone under clouds,
Woven with roots and the long hair
of wild grasses, wildflowers and forget-me-nots.
Come night, she arrived with bare feet
To tip-toe a slow, wandering path,
Until she reached the peak.
Then shedrew back her shoulders, and sighed,
Hard. So the breath left her lungs like an animal
From a dirty cage. The hill wore the sky
As a big cape,
And it began to cry for her.

So the clouds took her poetry
and hurried to replace it with grey fog.
Next, their rumbling stole her hunger,
Reaping first her belly then her heart.
Starry black fists digested it as it climbed,
They packed it into the air, so it became the thunder.

Like this her life’s crack-bam and zitz-zic-schrak,
Cut open the night as great blades of lightening,
And spilt into a Storm like boiling car-oil.
At each shot of the starter-pistol
Races began between frights of tearing wind
Which rode as horses across the flashing night.
A mania like rapture stirred the sky
Into a battlefield, a playground, a murderer.

So the Eye dropped to her knees soundlessly,
Her blue lips flat-lining, her lids half-closed.
She pressed the length of her body,
Still and white to the waves of sodden ground.
And though a storm will only last so long,
Time passed, and she grew colder.

And as the storm rose up
she started to die.