She would prove it on the cribbage board
A game never lost
She hid herself behind card games
Pick up five, queen of spades
One word too far and she’d let tears fall
And the blame would rest on our cheeks
Like the freckles we stole from her
Her teeth, the white chipped peg of my childhood
She casted spells over us
Quickness to anger
Rounded nose
A sadness that lives in our blood
Conjured in the womb
Her heart-hope festered in us
Swaddled, we never stepped far from home
My mother told me she was a witch
Adrianna is an English and Cultural studies undergraduate student. She is interested in topics of sustainability, health, and identity, and how they work through literary texts. She loves coffee and compost (not at the same time). Find her on Instagram @adriannamichell and find more work at adriannnamichell.wordpress.com. |