poppet family when i do witchcraft i often don't know what to ask for. it is years of my tongue being a bottled bird. tonight i sew poppets of my mom & dad & brothers. i dip them in honey & arrange each in a circle around me. knit promises into their mouths. they are saying, "yes yes yes-- you are our good skeleton." or maybe i do know what i want & i am scared to tear seams. in the kitchen, moths arrive like oldest angels. then, ants come to feast on the honey. isn't this always how it goes? glistening & then eaten & then they find your bone. some day i will have the courage to bind the poppets one to the other.