In the Woods
Jo Gerrard
In the woods,
I stop to watch a spider spin
to make repairs-
to weave the world together.
"Stick to the path," Mother warned.
And I meant to obey-then.
Now, I could have children of my own,
and I step off the rocks into the mud
to kneel and pluck a wildflower-
A bloom so red that I might
(should I choose to remember)
see a cloak and hood of blood
around the slender stem of girl.
I could envy that child.
Wolves are easy,
their desires simple.
A quick snap and satisfied.
Woodsmen are harder,
their desires complicated,
incomprehensible to children
and hidden from grandmothers.
I am ready to be a witch.
I love how Baba Yaga's hut mumbles solace to itself,
How Arachne works her loom,
And weaves the world together.
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