A Recipe for Housekeeping

By Chanelle Allesandre 1st Place Poetry

Anyhow, it was superstitious the way the broom fell behind me from its corner as I closed the door behind me as I shut the door easily, as I do every night, and nothing has fallen on the floor before, certainly not a grey broomstick a sure omen a harbinger of guests of visitors an imminence especially under Aquarius joint, juxtaposed with the other planets knocking against Saturn’s goaty knees up in a lightless sky and I remember in my book I read that a broom falling at night meant visitors you couldn’t magic off or away, unless you had a string of potent words and herbs like gentian, quince, to sweeten the gentiopicrin, and rivina with red berries of protection to stave off uninvited spirits to tighten the boundaries around the home, uva ursi mixed with the roots of wild valeriana and stirred with the beak of a wren, preferably, with a pinch of xanthan gum to thicken it all yellow and paste-like to be buried with orange zest and left undisturbed.