I often see folklore tales in my dreams
Of sorceress women and waning witches
With ropes around their necks or flailing in black waters
They are always beautiful
with night sky skin and milky white eyes
but the men who hunt them say
Their beauty is threatening just like
The runes and healing stones that they clutch to their breasts
What do they know? Is always the question,
a crystal ball, a palm reading, a fortune-tellers kiss,
Look what I see, they say in unison, a smile playing on their lips,
each with a single tarot card between their teeth.
tinarosepoetry 