pris campbell | witchcraft & precipice


When dinner is done, plates put away,
when witches mount their stout brooms,
I release what still binds me…

My dirty secret.

I sing of those nights
I saw him do things
to that child who no longer was me,
but only some semblance of me.

My stand-in.
My prone, breathing diary
of foreshortened memories
inscribed by this man who bartered
his soul for one tiny shudder
into a child’s silenced cry.

I shear off a lock of my hair,
burn it as sacrifice to witches
and children who fly now where I did,
give thanks to the coven of women
whose spells lifted me
from what no child should bear
in songs sung en sotto again.


Under the hammocked bend
of a shrinking sky,
the latticework of moaning
trees poking into lost illusions,
you and I walk a path
littered with missing friends
and once bright-eyed lovers.
Older now, we no longer
put up our peaches for winter.
We are swept aside
as the buffalo streak past,
plunging over the edge
of the approaching precipice.
You hold me until the dust settles,
then pick flowers, weave them
into a pink & blue halo for my hair.

More on Pris Campbell can be found by clicking here… and visit her website here…an her blog, Songs To A Midnight Sky

0 Replies to “pris campbell | witchcraft & precipice”

  1. pris,i find the first poem awesome.its harassing
    content is captured delicately,and for my feeling,ended with a justfull dose of a doom,
    placed on him who placed himself hereunder
    with his deed.

  2. beautiful writing, pris. in “witchcraft”, the stanza that begins with “My stand-in” is particularly touching — gives me an emotional investment in the poem, as your work consistently does. and in “precipice”, the images move, moan and ultimately caress, as they invite remembrance.

  3. Both poems are wonderful and Precipice seems such a personal perspective for me as an observer of herded panic but it is so great to revisit the painful experience of Witchcraft again and touch it gently with words that care to heal. I too am glad to put a stamp on these moments and send them back to the desperation from which they came.

  4. Cool visionary effect.

    How many buffalo do we watch trampling past
    in a lifetime? Precipice reminds me of the Zen
    monk, the cliff, the tiger, the strawberry, but the
    buffaloes hold the history better.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.