The Witch
We try the old ways
Wild geranium
To stop the bleeding
Devil’s clothesline
For the burns and sores
But our apron strings fall
Loose our shoes will not stay
Tied the beds rise up
We wind up on the floor
The clothes hung on the line
Torn off till all we can do
Is spread ourselves out on the grass
And wait.
2 thoughts on "The Witch"
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Love it, Tina. One of my favorite poems by you. 🙂
Thank you so much!