A Witch's Education

<p><em>With lyrical malevolence Serafina Bersonsage chronicles the evolution and dissolution of a literary critic-cum-storybook villain. Frustrated with the Midwest the titular witch flees a small town for the even smaller world of academia where she develops a crush on a dead poet and has a date in a psych ward and renames herself at a rest stop Starbucks before venturing deep into the woods.</em></p><p> </p><p><em>These poems pair well with poisoned apples and a full-bodied red.</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>SMALL TOWN WITCH</strong></p><p>Well before I cast a spell<br />they made a witch of me<br />an only child in a school of sisters<br />a wannabe Catholic turned heretic<br />a lonely prodigy<br />so my teacher said<br />staring down my shirt.</p><p>I was a witch every Halloween<br />but a vampire in first grade<br />on a random bored Tuesday when I started<br />that particular rumor and caused a panic.<br />Two children were inconsolable;<br />the principal furious.<br />My mother just poured more wine.</p><p>I started learning languages —<br /><em>serpiente</em> — and was curious<br />about Communion and couldn’t wait <br />to taste —<br /><em>Mela melas.</em><br />My mother taught me early about palindromes<br />in this our Salem<br />where the schoolyard held my gallows where I flew so that I would not swing.<br /> </p>