The Witch Doesn't Burn in This One

by Amanda Lovelace

women: we can spin g o l d out of d i r t. - bewitching.

a door with a lock no man can ever break. - safety has never been our privilege.

they wanted us weak but forced us to be strong.

they will try to steal your light & use it as a weapon against you. but there’s a piece of good news: they don’t have the patience to control it like you do.

curves & fat & rolls are a colossal “fuck you” to the patriarchy— our accidental rebellion.

i can’t seem to recall agreeing to be a casualty of these manmade disasters. - cyclone.

did you really think you’d get to mourn the house you set aflame?

i didn’t come here to be civil. i didn’t come here to sit you down with a mug of tea & a blueberry muffin to coddle you as i try to convince you that respecting my existence is essential. you’ve had plenty of chances & you took a hard pass every time, so i came here to watch your anger overtake until you finally c o m b u s t. - i’ll use your light to read.

- throw flames like a girl.

women, i implore you: build your fire. just pretend you’re helping the men survive till spring like we were raised to. let them get nice & relaxed until their lungs have more smoke than they do air & no way to call out for help.

(im)patiently

if nothing else, we will make certain they’ll never be granted the opportunity to silence us again.

& a woman’s wrath is nothing if not immortal. - writing with no light.

write the poem. (write the pain) burn the poem. (burn the pain) - blow the ashes in their eyes.

shine so brightly the men think you’re guiding them into the afterlife.