If I were in a fairy tale,
full of fair princesses and castles,
i’d choose to be the witch,
who lived by herself in the forest
and didn't ask to be bothered by woodsmen and children.
I’d have foxes and owls, wolves and cats,
bats in the rafters
squirrels in casements,
wildflowers and ancient trees
whose roots in gnarly, chaotic
abandonment, circle round, round, around
keeping the without, out.
through gossipy folk,
everyone will hear
about the cranky woman in the woods
who with her scowl
the curl of her lips
and the wildness of her hair
must surely be too far gone
for them to save, to civilise.
And in my cottage i’ll laugh
or is it cackle?
as i sink in deep into my rocking chair
a mug of steaming secrets in my hand,
reading a book of unwritten tales
as my owls hoot at the moon.
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