My father hunts witches
studies the occult
reads all about Salem
doesn’t let my little sister
dress up on Halloween
and always carries with him
a Coors silver bullet
a garlic glove
a wooden cross
and a rare iron stake.
My mother is a witch
I mean that quite literally
for she rides a broom
cooks in a cauldron
has a rat nest in her hair
studies Mephistopheles
makes unholy Swiss cheese
prefers the Lions o’er the Saints
and hides her little spells
from my father in a dictionary.
My sister can turn invisible
float across the room
bowls with a crystal ball
has an undead boyfriend
can mix a love potion
that will knock your socks off
sticks pins and needles in her dolls
and wants a new broom,
the latest model of course,
for her sweet sixteen.
Southwest High Creative Writing Award, Spring 1986
Available under the following terms: CC-BY-4.0
