Life cycle of a little witch

LUTEAL
I trace the veins
of my family tree
like I’m learning to harvest
from the roots.
Too many branches have been left singed.
I wonder what happened
to all the aunties
that never learned to keep quiet;
learned to weave and riot;
shared stories by the mire-sides;
the ones who spelled the truth out
before literacy was secular.
I wonder what their names were;
whose family trees they stopped
dead in their backs.
MENSTRUAL
The headline reads
“No-one Tortured Witches Like We Did”
Six thousand burned at the stake.
I can still feel the blister on my toe.
“Fortunately today’s witches have nothing to worry about!”
but I wake up with anxiety attacks.
The Devil visits me
hanging capsize from my deck of tarot cards
I ask him about the women kept alive to give birth to dead babies
the women killed for the lack of research
I asked him if that’s God’s plan
or if dignity is just imagined heresy.
FOLLICULAR
On the seventh day
I stopped praying.
Revolution sometimes means
counting your eggs before
they match with a fascist.
I’m mapping out my allies;
brewing teas
deep into the night;
lighting candles and stoking fires.
We have been waiting
for the moment to summon each other.
Even when we whisper,
the dead are always listening.
OVULATION
It’s time to peel the fruit.
Bruises and all,
its time for the juice to
squirt through our firsts.
Simple syrup on ripe cherries.
We will kill them
with fructose smiles
wine stained canines
clenching
clenching
We are ready to live deliciously.