Untitled, by Julia Alvarez

Everything that happens to me these days

is dangerous with love. I’m a witch

at full moon. I can’t be sure

of anyone. I stiffen if I’m grazed

by an arm or a hand combs through my hair.

I won’t drink from a strange cup or use

borrowed clothing. Everything is infused

with hazard and imagination’s power,

stronger than actual. I won’t accept

dinner invitations in case magic

powders have been disguised in the garlic

seasonings. But my house, though protected

with charms, can’t block the spell mortality

has cast, thirty-two, I turn thirty-three.

From “Homecoming: New and Collected Poems by Julia Alvarez. (Plume: $9.95; 128 pp.)

Copyright 1996 Reprinted by permission.