“The Witch These Days” – Poetry by E.H. Brogan

The Witch - Alfred Kubin, 1900
The Witch – Alfred Kubin, 1900

Should you care for one more taste of our supernaturally great Winter 2016 issue before it flies on December 22, here’s “The Witch These Days,” one of four enchanting poems by E.H. Brogan in FLAPPERHOUSE #8. And if you haven’t pre-ordered a digital copy of the issue already, you can click here to have it apparate into your emailbox by the Solstice.

(To hear a recording of E.H. reading the poem, check out the Soundcloud file below the text.)

{ X }

MORE AND MORE THE WITCH finds herself just wanting some
alone, no more villagers who pound down her door and pretend
they are friendly so she might do them favors, simple favors,
one single favor or a myriad, sometimes as little as her presence at
a bar she doesn’t want to go out to tonight, the aura of her blessing,
hot factor of her green-edged hair, power implied by her implied power, by
her being there. She could say nothing – but no one lets her, out in public,
ever. All she really wants to get done strangers stomp all over, stand in the way
of scooping litter, block progress on her newest painting, even her shortest,
partial tasks: ordering parchment notes and copying fresh spells down in
attempts at calligraphy, or script, a mark THAT she cares, or that she takes
her time, at least, she tries, within her cracking record Book.
But no one seems to understand her level, how absent
company does not mean company is needed. It sounds awful
boring to all of them, loneliness, those that live in the village.
Without others what could one be doing? Running
from you all, she mutters as she finally picks up
the phone, you know, the landline which for over
twenty minutes now has rung and kept
on ringing. What do you need?

{ X }

image1E.H. BROGAN is a graduate of the University of Delaware with a B.A. in English. You can read her poetry at places like Cider Press Review, Bop Dead City, FLAPPERHOUSE, the Sandy River Review, and Red Paint Hill. Soon, you’ll be able to read her prose in PRIMITIVE magazine. Her house is built of unread books. Tweet @wheresmsbrogan for more. You can listen to any or all of her previously published poems on Soundcloud here

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