LITR 3731: Creative Writing
Student Poetry Submission 2005

Tara Orr

Between the Woman and the Witch 

We stand

saying our goodbyes

through clenched teeth

and watch-your-back smiles,

both of us blaming the other

for every wrong.

We barely wait for the door to close

before we start to mutter our disbelief

at the other’s stupidity.

No matter what I do

it’s always wrong.

How can I appease you?

It always ends up

being a clash

between the woman and the witch.

It’s been weeks since

we fought it out.

It hasn’t been the same,

I don’t think it ever will.

And some part of me

doesn’t want it to,

part of me mourns,

part of me knows

that’s just the way it is

between the woman and the witch.

Sometimes I think you may be right.

Maybe I ‘m the one who’s hard to please.

and I ‘m the one who always changes

who I am just as you get to know me.

I may not see the truth

of what’s before me because

it doesn’t fit my needs.

Perhaps I judge too swiftly

and forget my past.

I’m not sure I know what’s going on

between the woman and the witch.

There are nights when my baby sleeps,

my husband’s gone,

and I am alone,

I think about what’s between us,

how we hate each other

and miss each other.

I think that I’m not as open

or as humble

as I thought I was.

I think that

I’m a little more lost

than I want to know,

and you might see me

a little better

than I see myself.

I look in the mirror

and see two pieces

that are jagged,

scarred,

and see that I am caught in the middle,

between the woman and the witch.

This poem is a personal one for me and was written a few years ago, then put away. The original idea came from an argument I had with a very close friend over how differently we raised our little girls and how different we had become in each other's eyes. More honestly, it was about how we weren't sure we liked what the other had "become." The poem came out of my written frustration.

The poem I presented in class was the really the third version of the poem. I included the original to show just how much I had cut before I even brought it to class. As for the actual revisions I made I tried to take everything I was told in class into account when I revised it. The parts of the poem that changed the most where the first stanza and the ending of the last stanza. I went ahead and took out the quotes in the third line, first stanza to help the flow of words and broke some of the lines down to help keep the staccato feeling of the words through out most of the poem. I really did not receive much input about changing the second and third stanzas that I could remember and felt comfortable about what they sounded like so I left them alone. The last stanza presented more of a challenge to me in revising since I wanted to pare down the words some more but still keep the sense of myself in the lines as I read them. I added the commas where they could help add dramatic pause as was suggested to me and tried to make the image of the reflection in the mirror more vivid by taking out some of the repetitive words.

Overall, what I did the most was to try and compact the words even more and clean up the images in the beginning and end of the poem. I'm very happy with the revisions but I also know that I could probably be more concise. I just need to figure out how to do that without losing the depth of feeling that exists in the longer lines because it's their almost languid feel that works so well with the intense almost fired off phrases in the rest of the poem. 

Between the Woman and the Witch  (original)

We stand there saying our goodbyes

through clenched teeth

and “watch your back” smiles,

both of us blaming the other

for every imaginable wrong.

We can barely wait for the door to close

and the tires to squeal off

before we start to mutter our disbelief

at the other’s stupidity and gall

I can’t believe that no matter what

I do or say or believe it always

seems to be against you.

How in the world

can I please you?

It always ends up being

me against you,

between the woman and the witch.

It’s been weeks since the last time

we fought it out.

It hasn’t been the same…

I don’t think it will ever be the same.

And some part of me

doesn’t want it to.

And some part of me mourns

And some part of me knows

that’s just the way it is

between the woman and the witch.

Sometimes I think you may be right.

Maybe I am the one who’s hard to please.

Maybe I am the one who always changes

who I am just as you get to know me.

Maybe I don’t see the truth

of what is before me because

it doesn’t fit my needs.

Maybe I judge too swiftly

and forget my past.

Maybe I don’t know what’s going on

between the woman and the witch.

There are nights when my baby sleeps

and my husband is gone

and I am alone

that I think about…us.

I think of how we hate each other

and miss each other.

I think of other friends that

don’t really call as often.

I think that maybe I’m not as open

as I though I was.

I think that maybe I’m not as humble

as I thought I was.

I think that maybe I’m…

maybe I’m a little more lost

than I want to know,

and maybe you see me

a little better than I want to see.

When I look in the mirror

I see the two pieces.

The two pieces that are jagged

and a little scarred

and I see that I am caught

Between the woman and the witch.

Through the Veil

Once,

she flowed

through the days.

Now, she watches the world,

letting the movements of others

wash over her.

They are the untouched fantasies,

the fleeting desires

of her numbed body

and disjointed mind.

Once,

her curves graced men's vision,

her flesh promised pleasure.

Now, her chocolate smooth skin

lies untasted.

Her saffron hair fading

into the almost dark.

Her fingertips fondling

the twisted scraps

of paper memories.

Once,

she could see

the sunlight amid madness.

Now, she rides along the seeming,

grasping at the glamour,

losing to the autumn.

Her only light,

the murky glow of normalcy,

comes creeping up the floorboards,

dragging her to forgotten.

Once,

she played with the mystery of the other side.

then she fell through to the veil of the lost.

El Alacran

   The Scorpion Scar

I watch you, perched there

on my father's hand,

waiting, taking care

so that you can land

in just the right spot

to cause the most pain.

Your poison bite rots

him slowly.  You rain

misery into

his mind. You make him

remeber the blue

water bottle, dim

lights, tearing metal,

screams.  You make him taste

smoke, blood, potential

death.  You lay him waste

to the mockery

or nightmares and doubt

and vile memory.

I know all about

your deceit and I

will not let you win

my father.  I'll pry

you from his scarred skin.

I'll crush you under

my heel, and clean you

out of my father's

life.  He's paid his dues.

Experience Me

I see you walking

towards me and know

that you can feel me

seeing you,

wanting you,

tasting you on the air

between us.

I want you to entice me.

You brush against me,

liquefying my craving,

molten need,

burning through linen layers

hoping to let skin meet skin.

I need you to see

I need quenching.

I want you to sense me.

We dance around

words with hidden meanings,

flirting with temptation,

wanting to feel

the weight of sin,

sweet and silken and slow,

each moment languid torment.

I want you to feel me.

I reach out and touch you

letting you course

over me, in me, through me.

I want to be crushed

under the weight of black night

and crimson longing

and you.

I want you to know me.