You’re not surprised that she’s a witch
chopping ginger and garlic, rosemary
and honey, lemon and vinegar whenever
you might get sick (and then don’t).
Her hands are oddly warm, magnetic
with her palms flat on your skin. She
needs space a certain way, particular
with smells, the way a room is lit,
the blankets taut. She could pay more
attention, tends to be absorbed in many
projects, needs just one more minute,
doesn’t notice when you’re tired
or wired when you should be
at rest. Wrap your hand around
one of her fingers, even if it’s
holding a pen, papers fanned
around her. Tell her what
you need. Ask and you
shall receive. She is soft
but not to be crossed,
will let none cross you
either, like a gate of
roses—thorns and salt
and sage encircling
you always.
Sarah Lyn Rogers is an NYC-based writer from the San Francisco Bay Area, a contributing editor for Catapult, and the former fiction editor for The Rumpus. She is the author of Inevitable What, a poetry chapbook on magic and rituals. A collaborative poem Sarah wrote with Isobel O'Hare appears in the Black Lawrence Press anthology They Said: A Multi-Genre Anthology of Contemporary Collaborative Writing. For more of Sarah's work, visit sarahlynrogers.com.