one carved finger bone (substitute lipstick with the smashed top in the cracked case)
two shed snakeskins (substitute two expired condoms)
three lizard’s teeth (substitute three earrings with missing twins)
a cow’s eye (substitute mushy strawberry)
a fresh sprig of pine (substitute broken pencil stub)
Submerge each item in water from a sacred stream (a forgotten cup of cold tea)
One by one let them drop into your ritual bowl (a chipped soup dish)
waiting until the ripples disappear before you add another
place the bowl in your window under the light of the full moon (a flickering streetlamp) overnight
In the morning pour the mixture in a glass jar (an empty cold-brew bottle)
Store it in a dark place during the day
And the next night pour it out at a crossroads (in a street corner trash can)
What does it do?
Let you drink the moonlight (turn garbage into gold)
Ellen McCammon is a queer Chicago-based creator interested in exploring gender and sexuality through folklore and myth. Her poetry has been published in Illumen Poetry magazine (as Anne Ellen Clarke) and Bi Women Quarterly. Her fiction has been published in Exponent magazine. You can follow her on twitter @bookpriestess.