Today’s poem is a double golden shovel using two lines from “The Witch” by Elizabeth Willis.
A World
a spell is a spell
a witch is a witch
she has potions – makes what has
been her family’s magic
known throughout the world
to ward off fear of heart in those who
cry – the very air of sadness goes
out first, then
while she stokes the fire
her heart warms, then her
husband reaches into the
places remote as the planets
inside of
her, dry as cardboard, kisses
the life back in, then his
image (not in ink but)
of heartlight beats with hers, then
a miracle happens – a conceived
child becomes their compass
Common Threads 