A War Witch will throw baby skulls on a battlefield, black eyes and black lips, ash on the face, hair like a crown of vipers, bullet casings about the neck. If they're caught they are raped and killed, the limbs and head are torn off and burned. They bring bad luck to the enemy, fire-breathers, a barbecued village of elders, these unnamed wars in African countries, shoeless, makeshift caskets in the smooth, red mud, the shoddy tin shacks and daylight Ebola of an old rusted bench, fat mosquitos the size of airplanes, the War Witch knows the great secret, she howls and she hisses from within the fiery inferno of Hell itself, there is no freedom and there is no cure, she is unholy and sainted underneath the bruised clouds of Heaven.