Smoke, it is all smoke br in the throat of eternity. . . . br For centuries, the air was full of witches br Whistling up chimneys br on their spiky brooms br cackling or singing more sweetly than Circe, br as they flew over rooftops br blessing & cursing their br kind. br br We banished & burned them br making them smoke in the throat of god; br we declared ourselves br "enlightened." br "The dark age of horrors is past," br said my mother to me in 1952, br seven years after our people went up in smoke, br leaving a few teeth, a pile of bones. br br The smoke curls and beckons. br It is blue & lavender br & green as the undersea world. br It will take us, too. br br O let us not go sheepishly br clinging to our nakedness. br But let us go like witches sucked heavenward br by the Goddess' powerful breath br & whistling, whistling, whistling br on our beautiful brooms.