Three Little Poems and a Collage
Empty incantations don’t reverse curses.
Standing in the middle of four stop signs
Just makes Hecate roll their eyes
and say “sorry, wrong number.”
It’s hard to evoke a deity
when pretending not to feel
the wtf from a dog walker.
Maybe you could ignore the first two.
But the yoga pants with the labradoodle?
Maybe you should start walking home.
Reexamine what it means
to be at a crossroad.
What exists between
the town cryer and the village thief?
And how much accusation can fit
Into one scared person’s grief?
What burns below the roots,
Because there used to be hope in spring.
Two mugs filled by one little teapot
With a reputation for steam.
I held you sacred.
You held me bated.
It’s all connected
And won’t makes sense
In the end
Either.
Blessed be! Mwah!
~Jasper
