Mother’s Bedtime Routine

Now she strokes my sister’s hair, now she holds our feet

Now she tells us of rabbits huddling together in a burrow

The war-wind howling and the hungry fox treading through snow

And a witch who lives on the rooftop across the street

Who is also hungry and who preys on sleepless children

Now a cloud in the shape of a fist gathers above her forehead and from it forms a well

Now I lean over that well and on the reflective water

I see her dusting owl figurines in the house of misfortune

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