Lit Issue 2018 | Poetry

new witchs familiar

it’s a honey moon
tonight, they say:
when lovers learn
to take leave.
(a rose moon
or strawberry—
sweet, wet, full.
earth’s blood mirrored
there in her gleaming)
last night there were six gunshots
outside our bar
& tonight they don’t know
if we hear fire works
or loud play
that will kill our children.
I don’t know what to do
about babies in the street
so I lay my crystals in the
moonlight to be bathed.
I would rather
feel witchy: see
hard earth as clean.
baby a black cat
has a wet rose tongue
too. or did you think
a tense superstition
could roll over
& lay its soft belly
bare for yr light?

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Jo Becker is a kundalini yoga teacher, songwriter & freelance writer living in Chicago. She lived in Bridgeport for five years, where she spent most of her time volunteering, running Girl Scout Troops & teaching yoga to the community.

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