Two Poems—Aaron Sandberg

The Dog Wakes Me Up to Talk to Witches

The 2 a.m. nose nudge
              tells me it’s time to take her out

(our ritual that
              conjures me awake)

but she stops short of the grass
              and motion-lit sense

which would consume the lawn
              to yawn, sit for a spell,

and stare into dark
              where I assume

she barks to commune
              with the wind and the witches

huddled by the fence
              who flap whispers

that flick at
              her pricked-up ears—

too low or high
              for me to hear—

as I wrap robe over chest,
              sigh this side of glass,

and wait for what hex
              or curse comes next.


Your sad ghost
              who saw said

shame on me,
              shaking her finger—

even after all
              of these years—

thinking it matters
              if we redraw

the half-erased line
              between what disappears

and what lingers.

Aaron Sandberg has appeared or is forthcoming in Asimov’s, No Contact, Alien Magazine, The Shore, The Offing, Sporklet, Right Hand Pointing, Halfway Down the Stairs, Burningword Journal, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. A Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee, you can see him—and his poetry posts—on Instagram @aarondsandberg.

photo by Freddie Marriage (via unsplash)