La Bonne Sorcière

I took you to my village,

we feasted, imbibed, and raised the dead,

watched a man enchant a tree,

though I can’t recall what he said,

we traveled to days long gone,

using painted plastic effigies,

we strummed on plastic instruments,

churning out nostalgic elegies.

I’m a good witch,

I’m a just witch,

my intentions are pure,

spitting out incantations and spiriting friends away,

to my enchanted lands on the bay along the shore.

I took you to my forest,

to wake plastic birds from their plastic nest,

to summon a mighty demon,

dancing erratically in your chest,

to alchemize art into science,

and transmute science back into art,

aging along with these ancient trees,

where good witches end and wailing wraiths start.

A piece of me wishes for roots,

firmly embedded,

like this tree,

the other part is a plastic bird,

with the illusion of being free.