by Wil Gafney
conjure a world into existence
that exists between the worlds
of then and now and soon-come.
Writing on the skin of the world
with our bodies and breaths
ground to dust, blown away
yet living on the wind.
Pieces of poems
writing themselves on scraps and screens
stitching themselves together
into new canons.
We are conjure women,
we who traverse portals opened by ancestral song,
we who dream the dreams and speak the tongues
of lands we have never seen.
Conjure-women conjure worlds from scraps
of scripture not meant for us.
I am a conjure woman
Whispering words into this world
to weave into those words, those old words
creating new worlds from all these words
and their gaps, spaces, and hollows.