Tuesday, June 27, 2017

The Witch

When I was a child
there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called
The Witch.
All day she peered from her second story
from behind the wrinkled curtains
and sometimes she would open the window
and yell: Get out of my life!
She had hair like kelp
and a voice like a boulder.

I think of her sometimes now
and wonder if I am becoming her.
My shoes turn up like a jester's.
Clumps of my hair, as I write this,
curl up individually like toes.
I am shoveling the children out,
scoop after scoop.
Only my books anoint me,
and a few friends,
those who reach into my veins.
Maybe I am becoming a hermit,
opening the door for only
a few special animals?
Maybe my skull is too crowded
and it has no opening through which
to feed it soup?
Maybe I have plugged up my sockets
to keep the gods in?
Maybe, although my heart
is a kitten of butter,
I am blowing it up like a zeppelin.
Yes. It is the witch's life,
climbing the primordial climb,
a dream within a dream,
then sitting here
holding a basket of fire.

Anne Sexton

Image from The Olde House On The Hill tumblr.


girl6 said...

Clumps of my hair, as I write this,
curl up individually like toes.
omg..that is SO perfect.

that witch looks like she caught ya looking at her
& NOW..she's gonna come for you, cause she's pissed!!! Awesome!!!

i thought it said, a voice like a bladder (then, i heard the soft sounds of a blabbing brook) instead of bolder. : D i need glasses!!!