Poetry Contest Winner, First Prize, Spring/Summer 2024

Kateri Kosek

Salem

I wouldn’t have stood a chance.
I’ve been known to cast spells,
inflict torment. I can spread myself wide,
I can follow you. I am ten steps behind you on the road
or lurking beside your kitchen table.
I am perched on the rafters of your barn, clutching
a stolen egg. I am a red bird on your shoulder
or a black dog in the field.
I have slipped out when the light is going
and come alive. Slept
with no roof above my head,
preferred pine boughs, sun dapple
to a church’s hard beams. I am your own
hallowed failings returned to you.
I have pressed oils from bitter leaves, I’ve
plucked the white flower’s seeds in autumn
to make myself bleed. Sometimes
the things I touch are alive,
and then they are not.