Revealing Rebecca S...

Sorceror


He sits
curling his vinegar lips
hurling salt and snide
side lines
from the
sidelines.

He curls back his lips,
spits,
sinks deep into his pit.

He peels back his lips
and his teeth are
salt white.

He makes magic.
Blood magic
slight magic
spite magic
to spit back at
our backs.

He knows we know
he knows
we notice.

He circles
himself in salt
To stay us
away,

He slits the space
between his lips
and lets slip with his salt teeth
and his forked tongue.

He slides backwards to a time
backwards to a time where
there were
no memories of us
no dreams of us
no reasons to stay his
words
or slay his passive
violences.

He lets loose
his shards of glass

He stabs
and snakes
and struggles

If he thought we would leave
his talons would be in our backs
pulling us back
to take it all back,
desperately
desperately
sorry.

He is coiled anger
He is a thousand
petty spells
to make himself forget
He is a thousand
shards
of glass
in our backs
He is a sorceror
and he is
struggling
with his slight blood magic
his memory magic and
his spite

We wait.

One day the glass shards will coalesce
into their own circle
a clear pane
that will no longer twist his view.

But we are angry, too.