spell of peace

block of wood
skin of string, tightly wound
button eyes
soft tummy
one lock of hair, tightly wound
around the neck

you, the doll
I, your witch

there is power in the needle
I can poke the flesh of your cotton belly
and hear about it on the news tomorrow

local boy stabbed to death in home – police searching for murder weapon

but I am a girl of humble means
and this doll is the only one I have

one day, I hope to know you
more than I know needlework and solitude
and until then
I will put my pins and needles aside

instead, I will fold you into a warm blanket
when you leave your jacket at home

I will massage your wooden back
when you’ve studied late into the night

I will place a raisin on your stomach
when you don’t have time for breakfast

and on the days your shoulders sag
and I can’t understand why
I will bike you to the park
climb a hill of young dandelions
and sit with you until the wind blows peace
into your velvet heart

© Jaclyn Legge