as young as I was.

“etta, I can’t stay here, I just can’t”

amelia shook her bag full of curses
as her sister watched with a glassy stare
the days of hill-hiding couldn’t fulfill her
need to wander, to explore, to discover

“he’ll find you out there, is that what you want?”

she knew the answer as soon as she said it
and she didn’t know if she wanted that knowledge
to remain or be scraped from her ears

“don’t breath a word to the others,
there will be hell to pay -“

“they know you better than you, they guessed.”

and the sentence fell like a rope in the sand;
they guessed, and let her go
was it banishment or relinquishment?
her crystal heart ached to know, but
it belonged in the palms of a cowboy,
sat in the brush a mile away, horses ready –

“I’ll write to you, just let me figure myself out,”
amelia promised, a certain magic in her words,
and even etta felt them this time.
a mournful sigh left the room, escaping into the
arid wind that awaited her sister.

“don’t address it to everyone,” she started
but she was smothered in lilies and spring water
and cinnamon, cascade of hair around her.

“I’ll miss you,”
was the message,
one etta kept forever

and as the witch went to her
gunslinger, she wondered if things
would spin or turn on themselves

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