MOTH

The odd circumstance entwined in the noticed coincidence
proclaimed the weirding way of the witch.
They all attribute hormonal swirlings and menstrual
voidings to extra-sensory perceptiblities.

I don't mind so much though,
I love them all the whole coven of which
so much to me is given to empower, to label,
to pedestal-place in a statuary sanctuary, sculpted ego, id erect.

At the curve of the bell we collect like heat rising,
gases intermingling fronts, cold and warm, storms
and rainbows and birds, lofted, some pole-sat.
She with the birds in her wings, her eyes, her mouth,

she sweeps down the curve and I am pulled on the air
after and left regarded as one of the happy few
called to belong somewhere else, exceptional,
a friend of a man with dogs beneath his souls.