A Witch’s Laugh


I always thought there would be knives
in my laughter, slicing someone else’s words,
and the threads that connected me to them, because
threads eventually fray and eventually jeans need
to be replaced, but

well it’s silly to carry knives under my tongue,
blades in my gums, just because time
happens to pass.

Time was never passing me by, it
was urging me along, and I said, screamed,
railed and rallied like a witch,
raged against the wind, and,
what is wind but a witch’s breath,
what are a witch’s tears, but a storm, I’m
trying to tell you that I
almost won

and in the process
almost lost, I

tied spikes to my feet, rooted myself to
my ghost, to reflections in the water,
almost sank into my past, but

I’ve put away the metal, sharpened to last
many lifetimes,  tucked them away in a
slowly shedding exoskeleton

and I still laugh
a witch’s laugh,
a different laugh,
and it is nothing
short of
bewitching.

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