Coven Part I.

The moon rises bald as a featherless egg

and spur heeled witches gather.

Whipping their legs through frozen bracken

they come wreathed in ribbons

thorns braided into hair

covered in mud

bringing their own blood

gold painted skin coruscating fire

Nails eagle taloned flares

Consecrating

The cracks that aren’t supposed to seep

Tearing the world open like honeycomb

Offering red quartz

Offering tears

Offering wet moss

Offering rage at injustice

Offering pigeon feathers

Offering protest

Placing their tribute

Upon the burning altar.

Photo courtesy of Martin Adams

Categories: Poetry

Heni Tinker

Heni Tinker (She/They) is a queer poet and witch living in Brighton.
More of their work can be found on instagram @heni.tinker

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