TWITCHCRAFT
—An excerpt
Unbidden, a spooklight, a nightmaker, he seems a nikin, a creature, a very soft creature—
his underness, an unkanny prank of
second sight.
Yet a fake and a fetch. Riven with affliction, with ravenous crookedness.
Hush, hush.
And sudden, a hocus, a harum-scarum, we mark him as swithen.
So musky and sleek.
ò
As if he would terrify, and he is somewhat terrifying.
Thou seeist?
Yes, you saw.
ò
And suddenly he seems a trifle, a
phanatic, a phrantic, a nullity, a mere nothing, a phantom appearing a
schismatic trick—
In foxsleep.
He seems a faltering, a mock, a folly under a dead eye.
ò
And he killed her it seemed, he was so close to killing her, he killed her, and what about your brother, yes, him too.
We held our own.
ò
Sandra Ridley (she/her) is the author of four books of poetry: Fallout, Post-Apothecary, The Counting House, and Silvija. Work here is excerpted from a serial poem, “Twitchcraft,” which will appear in Vixen, a book forthcoming in the autumn of 2023 with Book*hug Press.











