The Trickster Witch Part 2: Juan Aldama

There’s a dark energy there

we held her close, kept her warm

night after night, while the terror

spread like pigment on wet glass

her eyes, her breath,

the rhythm of her teeth.

She ran as soon as she could stand

was last spotted near the border

the dried skin of a chameleon in one hand

a hard boiled egg in the other

whispering rhymes about the alchemist of Terra Rosa.

They say there was never one so beautiful

so lost, so terrifying,

with a soul like tight, dry powder

resting quietly in the path

of a creeping lava flow only she can see

she knows it’s coming

she prayed for it.

Weeks went by.

She and her companion were waylaid

in the highlands near Juan Aldama

made to roll bones for her freedom

but just hers

she moved on alone

less two fingers on her left hand

only thumb, middle, and one frail pinkie

she admires the grotesque beauty of the claw

remembers fondly the medicine man of Juan Aldama

who wears a skullcap that glimmers

with the shifting hues of dawn.