"The Witch" by Amanda Pape

A creature calls out in the night

Within this form of female flesh

And outside

In the rains gurgling language

On the tide of autumn’s languished,

Chromatic funeral procession

The eventide spirits utter primordial chants 

I turn my face into the wind

Here it comes

Down from the mountains and meadows

Who claimed my heritage

Spoke my sacred name

They said, “return and render”

Summoning the echoes of a

Viridescent sighing

Within me, It weaves

And unfurls

In crude tones

I am conjured