Michelle Salcido

Divination

“The witch was consulted by all, for relief in sickness, for counsel
in trouble, or for foreknowledge of coming events.”
Margaret Murray

You want someone close to you to watch you do something
out of character, commonly cruel, and then
still love you like before.

The dish you tell everyone is your favorite really isn’t.

Stop going back there, to that place that will never change you.

The pattern of your pupil, the way it dilates,
the way your attention circles this very word
tells me you once secretly lit a fire
in a garage or field, maybe a barn
that got out of hand for a second,
the flame shooting higher than you expected.
That jolt in your chest—you’ve been looking
for that feeling again
and you don’t even remember
how you got the fire out.

I see you in those black shoes walking through a glass door,
glancing back at something that is already gone.

Your mug handle always faces east.

You stumble through a meadow at dawn. Thick mist, dim light,
long grass. You happen upon an animal—a sheep or deer or
an impossibly red fox. She is giving birth, her low moans call
to you, so you kneel, plunge your hands deep into wetness
and pain and pull out a fawn, warm as cinnamon.
She looks into your eyes and calls your name, your true name
and calls it in a way that breaks your heart
with tenderness and compassion for yourself.

You lied about why you lied.

You have mistaken your father for a stranger—
he nods to you on the street every day and never speaks.