Tuesday poem #152 : Cassidy McFadzean : SALEM

I peek out my witch window
a double hung sash, the sheet
of glass placed diagonally
on the second-storey gable wall.

My siding’s sideways glance
stops the witch’s broom flying thru
when bodies banished from Salem
Massachusetts begin to move.

With no coffin corner, my corridor
too narrow to pass, I took a king
size box and cut the springs in two.
I close the curtains tight and recite

the lord’s prayer on my knees.
Now I’ve gone from counting sheep
to catching z’s in a dead sleep,
air at night cold as my witchy teat.

Cassidy McFadzean is the author of Hacker Packer (McClelland & Stewart, 2015). Her poems have appeared in magazines across Canada with new work in Carousel, Prelude, and The Walrus. She is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and currently lives in Regina where she is a sessional lecturer at Luther College.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan