3 Frightful Poems

We Already Reside in the Fixer Upper

Don’t unpack your things. We don’t think that you
are right for this place. It’s our house, always
has been. Just because you bought it doesn’t
mean it belongs to you. We’re going to
keep it. We’ll drive you out, we’ll fill your days
and nights with chaos -- noise and sights that won’t
sit well with you. Books will fling themselves
from cases, cups will crack themselves in sinks,
water won’t boil, lights will flicker. While we
don’t rest in peace you’ll want some. Dish cupboard shelves
make unholy sounds when they crash. Wood shrinks
in floors, nails fall from walls, pipes suddenly
burst. We’ve scared so many people off, you
have no idea what dreadful things we do.

(poet’s personal note: this did not work; I am still in the house.)

~~~

The First 13 Full Moons After They Get Bitten Are Hardest on Their Significant Others

Please
get
home. These
are not yet
werewolves who can turn
off what they really want to do
in favor of not doing it. They still have to learn
how to manipulate hot desire through thought, how to
conquer the animal that gnaws
inside, to defeat
wanting raw
fresh meat:
red,
bled.

~~~

This is Where Two Streets Meet Unless You Can Make It Mean More

“…there was a general conundrum for most of these people who claimed to be witches. That conundrum was a lack of an actual magical craft. Sure, they had many claims. They talked the talk. But could they walk the walk? What good is a so-called witch if she/he didn't know a thing about magic?”

Doc Conjure, My Secret Hoodoo

So, what did you expect would happen here?
A crossroads demon, a devil, maybe
Lucifer –Satan himself– to appear
before you and buy the eternity
of your soul in exchange for something you’d
like to have? Won’t happen. At least, not for
you. Your spellwork and ritual are crude
superficiality, you’re no more
arcane than a mosquito. Go away.
Take your pentagram necklace, your black candles,
your Etsy knock-off pleather grimoire, play
magick somewhere else. There were no channels
of communication opened up. You
don’t know how give a devil its due.

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