Sunday, January 13, 2013

A Poem by Laura Eppinger


Muti, you said. Medicine.
“Witchcraft,” you named every strand of my hair
discovered in the scruff of your beard.

You found them when I slept in your arms and even
when I didn’t, when I’d been away
for days.

There could be only one explanation, you insisted,
for a head of hair the color of chocolate,
for wisps that stick on you for days,
for eyes that sparkle green in a good mood, and turn
brown in an foul one.

It’s been three months since I’ve been touched
by the Southern Hemisphere’s sun
and finally I believe you.

From now on I’ll say:
the love potion dried up
and my muti stopped working
so I got hopped on my broom
and flew away.

Laura Eppinger graduated from Marquette University in Milwaukee,
Wisconsin, USA in 2008 with a degree in Journalism, and she's been
writing creatively ever since. Her laptop screen got cracked during a
year in Cape Town, South Africa, but it never stopped her from

Her full publications list can be seen here:

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