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Remember Vasalisa, lost 

          she found Baba Yaga’s forest house 


           on wild chicken feet, fearsome old woman

                            who would eat you alive, unless 


you complete an impossible task


while she sleeps

                                             crawl silent in darkness

                     on planked wooden floors, your blind fingers stroke 

                            each splintered groove, seek out

               every cranny, gather each seed –


There’s a doll in your pocket. 

She knows the way home.

Anvil Quilt by Leijsa Squires, Page photo by Susan Wismer

Qwerty 45, Summer 2022;  reposted for Poetry Pause, League of Canadian Poets, September 20, 2023
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