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Wiccan
February 17, 2014
I am a Wiccan.
(a what?)
We curled our toes under
a crescent moon.
You picked at the divine
dandelion seeds in the strands
of hair that you pushed behind
my ear so I could hum
with the crickets.
The stars flirted
with your evergreen eyes.
(That’s the big dipper!)
But it was only Etherus.
Without me,
you brewed a love
with a Virgo.
A new moon came
and kissed my forehead
goodbye.
And I burnt at the stake.
© Allison H., Vancouver, WA
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