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
