Vanessa Kittle

Witch Doll

How strange to be
the girl with vines
for bones underneath
her skin, sprouting
in arms and legs
and fingers,
pouring from her eyes
in white and black
shimmering leaves.

I am part of what hides
under beds at night.
But still I am afraid.
I wish for a sword
to be shoved artfully
between my ribs
and wiggled around
until I stop moving.
I have begged for this,
but I can not be
killed by that
particular poison.

Vanessa Kittle is 35. She lives out on Long Island, New York with her evil kitten, Sombrero. A former chef and lawyer, Vanessa is now an English composition professor. She published 2 collections of poetry in 2006: a chapbook called Apart, and a full-length book called Surviving the Days of the Empire, both with The March Street Press. Her work has recently been in The New Renaissance, Nerve Cowboy, Limestone, Ibbetson Street, and A Generation Defining Itself anthology. Vanessa edits Abramelin, the Journal of Poetry and Magick. Her poem ‘Next Time’ was nominated for a 2007 Pushcart Prize by Barbaric Yawp Magazine.