" I stand on the shoulders of the sisters before me. "
She won't make wigs
of it. She has more brutal plans.
Some she feeds to pigs.
Some she burns in distant lands
you never want to visit.
strange that nude
before a flat stone altar
she fashions crude
and obsene figures from your hair ?
women who don't falter
when they pick up scissors or a knife,
who know the names of poison plants,
the purpose of each star,
the absolute anatomy of life.
Such women are, however,
individual and rare.
A single warning:
never let one cut your hair.
page 1, Seasons of the Witch 1992, by Patricia Monaghan, Delphi Press
Wikipedia Patricia Monaghan
I have a copy of Seasons of the Witch. Can't tell you how long I've had it and it most likely joined my collection via some thriftstore purchase. Books have a way of falling off shelves and into my path just when I need them. The poetry and artwork inspire me still to this day (and I'm not a real fan of poetry).