Her Broom, Or The Ride Of The Witch

My broom
with its tufts of roses
beckoning at the black,
with its crown of thistles,
prickling the sky,
with its carved crescents
winking silverly
at Diana,
with its thick brush
of peacock feathers
sweeping the night,
with its triangle
of glinting fur.

I ride
over the roofs
of doom.
I ride
while he thinks me safe
in our bed.
My forehead
he thinks that scraggly
other broom,
my hips that staff,
my sex that stump
of blackthorn
& of twine.

Ah, I will ride
over the skies-
orange as apricots

Poem topics:

Rate this poem:

Add Her Broom, Or The Ride Of The Witch poem to your favorites

Add Poet Erica Jong to your favorites

Similar Poems
There is no similar poems related to "Her Broom, Or The Ride Of The Witch" poem.
All Erica Jong Poems

Popular Poets

Henry King (3 poems)
Jack Spicer (1 poems)
Orrick Johns (4 poems)
Grace Hazard Conkling (3 poems)
Leon Gellert (0 poems)
Marriott Edgar (1 poems)
John Eglinton (1 poems)
Hannah F. Gould (1 poems)
Patrick Brontë (12 poems)
Charles Cotton (1 poems)

Popular Poems

In Memoriam (A. L. Gordon), by Henry Kendall
Glass was the Street—in tinsel Peril, by Emily Dickinson
Woodnotes, by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Written In The Prospect Of Death, by Henry Kirk White
The Rain, by Anonymous
Good Counsel Of Chaucer, by Geoffrey Chaucer
Before Action, by Leon Gellert
The Heart And Service, by David McKee Wright
My Room, by Robert William Service
The Pagan Past, by John L. Stoddard