poem13 Nov 2022 06:02 pm
generated by Dall-E 2

Avra Margariti

Cauldron alchemy of sizzling wormwood
heart-sparks glowing like sixth magnitude stars
which is to say not bright at all
salt sulfur mercury
the yin yang and beyond
blood drawn from meaty bottom lip
the missing ingredient
Grandma Spider instructs
I fill a bowl with boiled goat milk and
drop three of her raisin-black grandchildren
into the viscous liquid.
The spiders gurgle as Grandma watches
from her webbed throne.
Now, she says. With scalded fingertips I fish them out.
They walk across my workbench, arachnid-bent legs
weeping white across the swirling woodgrain
spinnerets spitting brittle silk soaked in milk.
The spiders crumble and die and I cry, I cry
but Grandma Spider shouts, The spell, girl. Focus on the spell.
Soon enough, the drenched threads weave
a shape on the table, the lost
last ingredient. Grandma Spider nods, perched high
in all her ancient glory.
I gather the gossamer flower embroidery onto my palm
swallowing it down whole.

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