The Gay Girl Converts to Witchcraft
by Lydia Havens
like it was a lemon drop. I cast
a hex against every person
who had hurt me when I came out
in middle school, and every cloud
came flying into my mouth.
Maybe they mistook me for a bird.
Maybe this was my calling, to mix
sea water with black candle wax
and old paper to get my revenge.
I have so much anger, it could
overflow across the entirety
of California. I am the flash flood,
no warning. I am a deserted
force of nature.
In seventh grade, I told one girl I
was not attracted to boys, and it
left a million scars. Boys left
bastardized Bible Psalms in my locker,
until I forgot my combination. Girls
I had never even talked to before
asked if I had crushes on them, until
I started eating my lunch in the bathroom.
Then, at last, I finally became
all the right kinds of shadow,
all the right kinds of ugly,
but middle school was long over,
and I was long gone.
When I discovered just how powerful
I could be with spells between
my teeth, my body became greedy
for magick - the healing kind.
The wary kind. That's how I've lived
my life, after all, patching up my own
wounds and never trusting anybody,
or anything.
I swallowed the weather long ago,
and it didn't change the world. It didn't
change my world, really. I sit in
my bedroom with my seashells
and rain, concoct until the sun rises
with my lungs. Sometimes, I am as bitter
as milk thistle. Other times,
I am brimming with forgiveness,
swallowing my knees and pulling
apologies out like teeth.
Once, my father teased me, asked if
I was a good witch, or a bad witch.
I just shrugged. But I wanted to reply,
I'm only the witch I needed years ago.