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Black Magic woman

Caitlin Thomson

she starts walking

under a red moon

the night holds her


in its caress


she reaches the swamp

molten moonlight

drips from

silver-black branches


the clouds hang low

and twist in the sky



a warped moon swells

a balloon fit to burst

showering the bleeding women

in luminescent dust


she spells

and black tears seep

from closed lids


the shadows leap up to dance

to a trumpet’s twang

the bayou shimmers


she kneels

back bending

in an unbroken circle

removes a soaked rag


black-red blood rolls

down her thighs like

melting candle wax


flowers drip with red

she touches them to her lips

then covers them with dirt


she walks home


hips swaying

the earth hums

where she steps

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