Call me a witch, or
any name hurled at women
with sulfur in their fingertips.
You think she’s so sweet,
click, click, that thief.
How long did I creep
that stone castle, always overcast,
stuck to my corner of the compass?
I was also looking for home.
The monkeys weren’t company—
they went out each night without me.
When I made her sleep, I alone
watched those eyes blue as cornfield sky
open to August snow.
She was like my daughter, left me
for a fraud, toy men and that dog.
Yes, some things I said
may have been taken as threats,
but we all must surrender
to something—Scarecrow to weather,
Lion to hunger. I surrendered
to my deep fear of water.