Witch-woman, <br />tall, slender, <br />Circe at her loom <br />or murderous Medea, <br />Joan at her tree, <br />listening to voices <br />in the rustling of the leaves, <br />like the rustling of the flames <br />which ignited <br />her deciduous life . . . <br /> <br />witch-woman, <br />burning goddess, <br />every woman bears <br />within her soul <br />the figure of the witch, <br />the face of the witch, <br />beautiful & hideous, <br />hidden as the lips <br />of her cunt, <br />open as her open eyes, <br />which see the fire <br />without screaming <br /> <br />as she & the tree, her mother, <br />are joined again, <br />seared, <br />united, <br />married as a forest <br />marries air, <br />only by its burning, <br />only by its rising <br />in Demeter's flaming hands, <br />only by its leaping <br />heavenward <br /> <br />in a single <br />green <br />flame.<br /><br />Erica Jong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/figure-of-the-witch/
