Never forget that once invoked
a goddess cannot go away
until asked to.
and in your rooms the smell of
sweet burning things.
Cover your mirrors, you who
cannot bear to look at yourself.
Rub sugar and spice over your doorway.
Bury your precious stones in ash.
Prepare for poltergeists.
Wash your body of the salt of
my fire eater’s tongue, black as
prophecy. Exorcise from your memory
the distant thunder of my voice.
Night bleeding into light,
the last crow before the sacrifice.
Make your offerings. Wood to oil, oil to flame.
I am more benevolent than most. Draw me
the outline of a door and I will withdraw, quietly.
I will not walk backwards. In your house,
not a shudder, no trace for days
but a relieved exhalation.
It is not what I will take;
it is what I will leave behind.
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