Photography © Edward S. Gault
Witchy Woman
I’ve been waking up feeling witchy,
overwhelmed by cruelty and greed.
I imagine casting spells that leave
the perpetrators writhing, begging me
to stop. Making promises
they’ll never keep.
Always the world tries to silence me, put
an end to my sharp words and my evil eye.
Even now, my left shoulder burns.
My doctor tries to convince me
it’s nerve pain, advises me to see
a physical therapist––
but I know better.
I spend my days rescuing frogs
from roadsides and pools.
My neighbors think I’m hoarding
them for potions to poison
their kids and dogs. I’m just trying
to learn frog ways, how they hide
in the moss and leaves, change
color, blend in. I watch them gather
strength for an ambush, the intensity
of a plague.
I buy a special broom at Waitsfield
Farmer’s Market, a smaller one in Philly,
tell my husband they’re for keeping
the porch and hearth clean but I’m planning
for a quick escape. I’ll sweep
the dust and pollen into a tornado,
disappear inside, take my powers
with me, unleash them like a virus,
or spread them like a salve.
Laurie Rosen is a lifelong New Englander. Her poetry has appeared in Gyroscope Review, Oddball Magazine, The New Verse News, The Inquisitive Eater: New School Food, One Art: a journal of poetry, Nick Virgillio’s Haiku in Action, Zig Zag Lit Mag, and elsewhere.
Edward S. Gault is a poet and fine arts photographer living in Brighton, Massachusetts. His work has appeared in Oddball Magazine, Spectrum, Wilderness House Literary Review, Interlude, Currents, and Encore. His poetry collection, Airhead and Other Poems was published this year by Read and Green Books.