You, with your celluloid eyes and certainty,
you will only see the dollar store fairy lights
wrapped as noose around her neck,
and think softness means stupidity
and you will only see a heart on sleeve
but never see its plastic casing, the lithium
batteries and metronomic tick.
and you will never see beyond
her curated life, the witchcraft:
Behind that manicured maiden face
she has the wisdom of a crone.
At what age does a woman become
a spinster and a spinster become a witch?
Let me jump the line, sneak to the front of the queue.
Let me be the witch now, before spinster,
before woman.
I’ve read the archives, surveyed the scripture
and sepia daguerreotypes.
I was always the witch,
the herbalist,
the storyteller at the edge of the forest,
on the intersection of reversing poles.
Shunned until you brought yourselves
broken in bone and spirit
admitting need.
That’s why you burned my people.
We remind you that male is also human
and that all humans break.
Word upon Word 