this is magic. an outline of where you
used to be, where you laid your head between
my thighs. once there was a niece and nephew
who played under the willow, all its green
letting them do what they wanted. i want
you back. here is the space in my arms, drawn
from where you once slept. you were starving, gaunt,
lean of flesh. i’m fleshy, full of life, spawn
of the never was, child of the bestial
never is. i bleed. i burn. this flame, whom
you helped create, you fed, will now reclaim
all that hurting which drives me, i struggle
to keep it controlled, it wants to consume
you, take all of you, engulf you in flame.

note:

Such an archetypical force, there have been numerous interpretations as to who and what Morgan le Fey really was: witch, enchantress, healer. The early accounts of Geoffrey of Monmouth and Gerald of Wales refer to her living on the Isle of Apples (later called Avalon) to which the fatally wounded Arthur was carried to. To the first she was a seductress, one of nine sisters; to the last she was the queen of an area near the Tor of Glastonbury and a close blood-relation of Arthur himself. In later stories Morgan became an antagonist of the Knights of the Round Table when Guinevere discovered she had seduced one of Arthur’s knights, though the magician and healer eventually reconciled with her brother, being one of the four witches who carried him to Avalon after the Battle of Camlann.