The last day of March is bright

snow-laden limbs and fields,

a tiny new pond iced

right outside my window.

Fast-moving clouds are notes

in the red-winged blackbird’s trill.

I sit for a spell,

beset by night’s intimations.

Far back in my lineage

a knock at the darkened door

by a woman, hooded, desperate

with a jinx requiring mumbo jumbo.

We don’t talk about those times,

marking an X on the family tree

(here be dragons)

dressing carefully for Sunday

service to a different god

who raped a virgin and called

her whore, wresting even the holy

spirit from her feminine wiles.

God, the almighty male tri-

age for the women lying bleeding

in the snow.  I sort through

seed packets from a retro

selection, non-Gmo, heirlooms

my ancestors prized.  The branches

above me glisten sun-

kissed as I choose

the pickle my great grandmother learned

to ferment for home brews.

We pass along knowledge

marked as recipes,

sharing the soil’s secret

ingredients for the good life.


Inspired by Dragon, Retro, Pickle and Jinx.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

5 thoughts on “Do-it-yourself”

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