She grinds up
hickory catkins,
meadow holly,
string lily,
into the perfect unguent.
And then there’s her potion
made of cottonmouth skins,
frog legs, and salamander eyes.
These are recipes handed down
by her mother
and her mother’s mother,
a long line of swamp women
living in that old Everglades fishing shack.
She’s not a witch.
So she casts no spells,
utters no curses.
She had to actually stab her husband.