Crumpled on the floor againlike a sad verse struck through,blacked out, never to be read aloudI crawl into bed, legs heavy from carrying the weight of worries.I’ve lost track of time again—bury my head in a pillow, hiding in its soft folds, stroking my own cheek, breathing into pain hard and…

“I think you take me to be a witch myself.”– James VI & I, Daemonologie I. His birth chased death from his mother’s rooms, delivered from Mary’s womb as summer turned  its first corner outside the little window, warmth of morning spinning up steep wynds and closes. Here is the newborn prince, his face tilted…