A day or so ago, I was reading one of these news stories about a church group holding a Harry Potter book burning. In all the stories I’ve read about this phenomenon, I’ve never come across a statement by someone who’s against Harry Potter who’s actually read the book. I guess this shouldn’t be too surprising — anyone possessing the intellectual capacity to read a children’s book is probably smart enough to know that banning and burning books is a bad idea. Still, I find this lack of curiosity startling. For the second time this month I was inspired to write a poem. (Which is strange, since I haven’t written any other poetry since probably about third grade.) Anyway, here it is:
Burning Harry Potter
by David Kirtley
Never have the flames blazed hotter
Than when we burned Harry Potter
We dragged him out from Privet Lane
And bound him up with cuffs and chains
He flailed and wept and cried, “I’m just a kid.”
We said, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”
Tied to the stake there he turned red
From tip of toe to bolt-scarred head
He blackened, charred, and then was dead
And we rejoiced, our children saved
From witchcraft, never would they rave
Again of Hogwarts, Dumbledore, or Quidditch
The witch was dead. Ding-dong. Good riddance.
No more talk of places where the magic dreamt-of creatures go
Or whatever Harry told of. We never asked. We didn’t want to know.
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