CW: cannibalism, racial slurs, torture/violence, self-harm

on the night of my confirmation to the coven

witches will rap in neo-niggerish so guttural

it resonates in their bones and strikes fear into the ground

emaciated purple dogs with big heads and bigger black spots

will howl at filthy white bonnets over perfectly picked afros

infants will cry bloody murder in calls to prayer

every child is born knowing they deserve reverence

and we will all be made to remember

the welcome mat is really just a neat pile of ash

leave your shoes outside and the fresh flowers on top of the dead ones

my house guests have brought curses as gifts again

and all i have to offer them is the dregs of my tea

they accept it, not because they are gracious - no, there's no time for that!

they do so with the wisdom to give anything purpose

today, the sin-eaters are gathering around my table to gorge themselves

on dirty old men sinking to their knees in cauldrons of boiling water

my master says, if you don’t smash an ant, you’ll never see its guts

so i keep the sun and a magnifying glass in my pocket

in the evening we floated

up to the moon and picked cotton by hand

just to know how it feels to be

weighed down in a chronological sense

crusty hands and crimson flowers

we were careful but never intended to become skilled

ready to die, the moths flapped their wings slowly

flicking off the rust before hurdling back down with us

in the garden we brushed the soot from our faces

and nibbled on cake served in prickly bolls

i grit my teeth and awaited my calluses, like all the other apprentices

i was told to leave my crumbs for the moths, so i did

- August 28