Tuesday, November 17, 2020

Previously Published in Concho River Review . . .


With Witchcraft

breath (shortened and struggling against this
second-hand corset), I begin the spell
I could not translate.  My mouth
barely manages the proper Latin pronunciations
I found folded and faded, stuffed into the back of A History
of Magic, bought at a yard sale.  Days later
candles struck, flaming at points of a crudely drawn
pentagram, I wait for the enchantment, whatever
it is to move me, change me, kill me.  Or maybe just
prove me wrong.

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Previously Published in Epigraph . . .

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