I take no comfort in the dark

nor in the heart of a fire that never diminishes

shadows undulate blue like a candle

lit by an unknown hand

 

I close my eyes against the moon

waning among granite clouds

a sickle moon

sicker still than one with something to purge

 

I drink the tea laid out for me; lavender to calm

and honey to soften a hardening heart

the bitter taste of that witch knows

I cannot be pacified.