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.