Christopher Crawford

I’m a Witch!
April 8, 2014 Crawford Christopher

I’m a Witch!


It is standard for women

to say this


kind of blithe nonsense

flirtatiously nowadays.


Or maybe it was

always so.


Trying to get off

with the blacksmith’s son in 1648,


peeking through her lashes, potato-sack

dress just so.


She ended seated

in the village pond.


Yet I always believe in her, whichever

woman is witching


or believe, at least, in the chance

that she may be the one


true witch I’ve met in my life

and ask her really… you are?


‘Cause I’m careful of these

curses, infatuation spells and so on


but then there’s the other

side of it,


the Bed side of it, because there’s that too

to consider with a witch…


Or maybe

I am the one seated this time, watching her


quiet movements around a room,

the late afternoon submerges us


in pond-like gloom, she is older,

I am too and she looks for her spectacles,


straightens a pile of books, takes one,

begins to read.  And I think


who are you,

where did you come from


and which kind of magic woman are you?

Close your book now,


cross the empty space between us

and answer me.


Which kind?



Christopher Crawford’s poems, essays and translations have appeared in magazines like The Rumpus, Puerto del Sol, Clinic, Rattle, The Collagist, The Cortland Review, Agenda and elsewhere. He lives in Prague where he edits the literary journal, B O D Y (