You hold the tip of the stick over
the flame and wait for the marshmallow to
melt with pain.
Next light a candle and lick your
fingers before they pass over the wick.
Did you feel it?
Did it burn?
I know you own many books
on the Salem witches and their bonfires.
You read them when no one’s home.
You press cigarettes to your arm when you think
I asked you once if you thought
that you were a witch.
You thought I was a child.
You started closing your blinds. And maybe that’s better.
When you went missing, it was like you were already gone.