Solid With Stardust
from Tomorrow, I Will Go Dancing
© Dominic Berry
Mother and rising son
Thatched Britain burning.
This is a witch hunt.
Mum is single minded. She will protect
with not even a broomstick to call her sword.
Me, I’m a baby goblin,
warm blooded reptile with a lion’s tail.
Those who were friends would now watch us burn.
Watching, whispering “Dirty girl.”
“Yeah,” Mum smiles back. “Dirty.”
I marvel Mum’s strength. Solid with stardust.
Woman powered beyond comprehension
shows me life’s sparks. Dark, mystic arts.
Lizards and butterflies ink dance her skin.
Flower fairies leap in bedraggled glamour.
Eyes speak of wardrobes that all lead to Narnia,
sweet and sour truths brewed by midnight
candle light, cauldron deep.
A witch’s familiar,
this black cat’s tight round Mum’s ankles
because she’s always been proud
when the good people have come down,
crucifixes in hand, preparing our bonfire.
If she had died, then she would have been human
but I know she is supernatural.
Love will lead me,