197/365 : make your witch a broomstick

today, i did not go to the river.
not yet.

i washed the soot off my walls.

i drenched myself in salt.

i called home my witch.

i made her a broomstick.

except...i didn't.

i wish i would.
i wish i would love my dark wizard.

i wish i would see him as oz,
small and timid behind some big

talking mask.
i wish i would feed him, at last, the stuff of
kings.

100 queens. music. silks. paints. candlesticks.

drumsticks. olives. gentle lips.

kisses by the thousands.
whole orgies of power.

power like a warm glow

power that's not trying to show off
or one up the next candle over

power that always remembers
the delight
the enchanting fright

the sensual might
the ecstatic cry
of a thousand blazing flames
side by side
setting the whole room on fire
with love