Then we looked up
it was a sky thick with witches

our sweat cooled, cool salt, licks of rocks and old potions.
Our hands done with, finished, our smiles
sweet as pumpkins, carved into our skins.

The moon curved and dark things
hid in webs.

Where are you now? Your tongue has left a trail,
white pebbles in the woods, but you are
not here and there is no-one in the sugar house.