Wood Witch Poem by Luke J. Holt

dont cut her out of the door
leave her shape in the even grain
SHE IS A WOOD WITCH!
the mountain that reared her is made of moss
with cocoon-colored trees and wisps of skeleton fairies smelling of dead corn
the autumn died and this wood witch holds the freezing dagger
she turns the cities to white glass
and forces frail princes to stuff their pockets with pink fur to prepare for the head-swallowing din of battle
shes in the door
in an outline of a princess
in tears