Poem by E.M. Buchanan.
Old Woman in Attic
When we bought the attic there was an old woman
Living there, And now there is again,
When I was young there was a township of them
Living up there in there in the attics. They would fly around
the rooftops on windy nights and cackle down thw chimneys.
I look at the old woman in the mirror. Not long to go now.
The wrinkles are coming on fine, The nose and chin are still
Some way apart. But already the magic has started.
I can be invisible without even trying. I can hover
In shops and bars and no-one knows I’m there.
At my right elbow when I pull the curtains
There is a sea-gull on her nest. She has a wicked beak
And a yellow baleful eye. She is my familiar and I like her.
Tomorrow I shall go to the garden centre and choose
My broom. I can almost feel a cackle coming on.