THE WITCH
To reclaim the image of the witch as a symbol of female anger and rebellion.
They had already named me,
label it while you cry,
at the sight of me.
A crowd was all they had.
A few pitchforks,
don’t threaten me.
The strain on my neck,
made me the one,
you hide from.
I kept their fear,
like perfume at the wrists.
It was the fuel,
to remind me why,
I turn your image to ash.
Burn the witch, they said.
Let them.
Let them light matches.
The fire is going to spread.
