If you must disappear, love, trust the trees.
Take the mojuba bag I made for you.
Fill it with stretching salt, morning glories,
Lady Marinette’s Bwa Chech root. Make do
with trees that love you. Follow the skylark
to my land of witchcraft and sodomites.
If you are seen remember: be oak bark,
be leaf and vine. Be still. This hex, these rites,
you’ve done this before. Just get out. I’ll wait
for you. Signs will come my way. Always do.
I want you safe. I want you before fear
rises, rain hisses in the leaves and hate
knocks on your door — I have faith in you.
Travel light now, love. Come quick. Disappear.