Marianne Morris, MORE THAN 1 WAY 2 BURN A W1TCH

There is more than one way to burn a witch. It’s 1497. It’s 2016. It’s Europe. It’s North America. It’s oil. It’s gas. It’s something about how numb you have to be in order to care more about money, control, aggregation of power, power, profit, corporate expansion, tipping the balance, exploitation, rape, than the Earth that gave you life. How numb you have to be in order to only be able to escape tribal law through aggregation of the aforementioned, can only dream in paper green, can only rape your way to the top, can only exploit your way up, can only be a man, can only be a man, can only lie your way to the top, can only be a man, can only be a man, and the feminisms are a new war, can only be a man. Only a woman would. Only a man would. Only a woman would. Only a man would. A woman always. A woman never. A man always. A man never. Stop up your mouth. Swear to me you will never say never or always again. The new Earth is here. It is beautiful.

Anne Sexton, Song for a Lady

On the day of breasts and small hips
the window pocked with bad rain,
rain coming on like a minister,
we coupled, so sane and insane.
We lay like spoons while the sinister
rain dropped like flies on our lips
and our glad eyes and our small hips.
“The room is so cold with rain,” you said
and you, feminine you, with your flower
said novenas to my ankles and elbows.
You are a national product and power.
Oh my swan, my drudge, my dear wooly rose,
even a notary would notarize our bed
as you knead me and I rise like bread.