The secret of witchcraft
is to hold everything dear.
It's all fodder for the cauldron.
The dull scraping blade
of grey Monday mornings,
the soft violet sighings
of sleeping Sunday children.
You might forget
for a moment,
they are human,
and prone to be broken.
If asked are you a good witch
or bad,
refuse to answer,
stand on the Fifth.
Hold everything, dear.
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