You As Witch

Poetry, Uncategorized

I loved you all the better that evening:

you came in from the half dark

after chasing the chooks home

with your earthy feet

dry and calloused

like the feet of a witch

who grew herbs among her flowerbeds

thick rich greens edible

fantastic in the flakey night.

 

Your words became feathery and

preened in the lamplight

bookwords

the ones that formed and formed again

so that your tongue grew calloused and dry

honest incantations

flakey as your naked feet

and just as telling.

 

This feeling gently grew like darkness

over the way you poured us tea

turning on your heel to fetch

lemons or more water

the curve on the shadow of your ankle

fathers there, or leaves

to cure us of cares that have been

calloused as chicken’s feet

thick, now, as thieves.

 

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