Witch’s Brew

And there it is again–

  silky voice of children’s lullabies

  she wields in meetings of wits

A New England beauty

replete with the grace and poise

white privilege breeds

Her blade of honeyed words

slices so sharp

I don’t see the blood

gushing

from my neck

I can’t keep up

Truth in fragments

rearranged like mosaic tiles–

  a mouse becomes an elephant

  as she purrs

One slight after another

10,000 paper cuts

Breathe.

On the stage of requiem

here we are:

  the damsel in distress

  meets the wicked witch.

What you didn’t count on

is that brown-girl magic

that heavy potion

brewed in the cauldron of history

  that’s one-part saving an electorate from a pedophile

                another part 63 cents for a white man’s dollar

          a-third Mammy

                        another third Jezebel

     topped off with rape.

So really, what arrows

have you left to sling?

Call me angry if you want

but anger is too simple

too trivial

for this frothing

this bubbling over

Come, let me serve you.

Christine Taylor, a multiracial English teacher and librarian, resides in her hometown Plainfield, New Jersey.  She serves as a reader and contributing editor at OPEN:  Journal of Arts & Letters.  Her work appears in Modern Haiku, Glass:  A Journal of Poetry, Room, and The Rumpus among others.  She can be found at www.christinetayloronline.com

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