Spring: 1943 by Charlotte Pocock | Really System: Issue Ten

Spring: 1943

Charlotte Pocock

My mother taught me how to work spells.

I spent hours in the field
behind the house picking herbs for her.

We spent so much time holding the letter
that it began to smell of asafoetida¹.

My mother cried under linen sheets smelling of banyan².
My father never came back.

On Ostara³ my brother picked phoenix flowers in the field.
I held his hand as we burned the wildflowers in the sink.

My mother did not come downstairs.

On Beltane⁴ we received another letter.
My brother smiled so hard he split his dry lips.

I spent so much time holding the letter
that it began to smell of asphodel⁵.

My mother did not come downstairs.

On Litha⁶ I stared out at the field as it caught flame.
I spent so much time holding the letters
that they began to smell of ash.

Later I sifted through the burnt herbs
thinking of the phoenix flowers.

My mother never came downstairs.
My brother never came back

¹ Herb used for protection and banishing negative energy
² Herb associated with love and luck (or luck in love)
³ Spring Equinox
⁴ May 1st
⁵ Herb typically found growing on graves
⁶ Summer Solstice, longest day of the year

Charlotte Pocock is an emerging writer from San Francisco, California. Her schooling includes the Ruth Asawa School of the Arts under the Creative Writing department. Her previous publications include the Kalyna Language Press Limited. You can find her this summer on the John Muir Trail.

ISSUE TEN: Satyrs Yell "Me!" | next poem →