The magic of three women together

Is black magic

Hag magic

Magic done in the dark.

 

Three women together

Blasted heath

Side of the road

Waiting in the silvery

Darkness of a foggy

Scottish night.

 

To poison a kingdom,

pour into a Thane’s ear

the death-dealing essence

Of the Truth-That-Will-Be-Now-You-Know,

Macbeth must be told,

Infected with gossipy

prophecy

And the wild information, released,

will rot away

A kingdom.

 

Or three women together

Pass an eye

Between them

As a hearing trumpet was once shared

Among spinsters,

Frugal, distressed, or into the idea

Of access to the world

Only when her sisters

Are blinded.

No competing interpretations of a shared event are possible

If you only perceive

In rotation.

There is surely witchcraft here,

in making three women

into one mind.

 

Or three women together

Sit at the base of a tree

And your life passes fast as

Swift water, the moments shining

Like film in a silver blur

As they run through the women’s hands,

And one measures and one

Spins and one

Cuts.

 

Sequential perception again,

In its way.

 

Or three women together

The virgin the mother and

The other one,

The lady of a certain age,

The lady of situations,

Somehow make up a whole

And encompass together the

Whole continuity of time

And lineage

As life runs through them in

A silver stream.

 

The magic of three women together

Is the magic of calamity

The magic of endings

The magic of grief

The magic of shocks

The magic that is wailing to the skies and the rending of garments,

The magic of something

Precious

Breaking.