Black Magic woman

Caitlin Thomson

she starts walking

under a red moon

the night holds her

close

in its caress

 

she reaches the swamp

molten moonlight

drips from

silver-black branches

 

the clouds hang low

and twist in the sky

grinning

 

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

barefoot

hips swaying

the earth hums

where she steps

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University of Bristol