Drink the black and bitter
juice of whale oil
and four-leaf clovers;
the oil gathered from the lamp
of a hundred-year-old man,
the clovers from the immaculate
white gravestone
of a woman stoned to death.
Wear a chain of rabbit feet
and milk teeth round your neck.
Hear them clatter like straw-stuffed bells,
feel them bite into your skin—
a pristine noose.
Crunch the glass
of broken mirrors in your mouth,
spit the blood in your
handkerchief and wear it
like a red chrysanthemum
on your buttonhole
or behind your ear.
Glue the fur of black cats
on your eyelids,
the dark shadows cast
over your face lashing your
jaundiced skin like cat-o’-nine-tails.
Brand yourself with a horseshoe
made red-hot over fire,
the sizzling flesh of your thigh
spelling out an enchantment
of luck.
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Avra Margariti is a queer author, Greek sea monster, and Rhysling-nominated poet with a fondness for the dark and the darling. Avra’s work haunts publications such as Vastarien, Asimov’s, Liminality, Arsenika, The Future Fire, Space and Time, Eye to the Telescope, and Glittership. The Saint of Witches, Avra’s debut collection of horror poetry, is available from Weasel Press. You can find Avra on twitter (@avramargariti). |