Gut Magic

a poem about spells, casting, and manifestations

Photo by Dick Hoskins from Pexels

Frissons, swirling stirrings in my gut

murmurations of energy being liberated

tingling through my nerves

and alighting in my core.

The comet assembles.

Fireballing, gathering heat

thrusting blood into my extremities and face

pinking; armpits exhausting fumes I pit out

casting change.

The thrust forcing me to exercise my

vocal chords and make words dance

along my tongue and palate out into the open

air or freeze.

Icing the fires, glacially slowing the blood,

turning the comet into a block of ice, walling

off the inferno that sought to undo me,

spelling protection.

The frissons of swirling stirrings in my gut

settle and perch

manifesting preparedness.