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crowd gasps. All lose their breath
    at the same moment.
    â€œRebecca Nurse is a Gospel woman,”
    someone whispers.
    Abigail shakes her arm.
    â€œAye, but the evidence be right here.”
    Ann says, “Rebecca Nurse visited me too.”
    The noise nears rowdy.
    Elizabeth huddles us round.
    She speaks just above the clamor,
    â€œWe are called. The Lord sends us
    to find the devils among us.
    We must follow only the Lord.”
    The little girls nod.
    I slowly nod too.
    But Margaret acts is if she hears nothing,
    as though she were as deaf
    as the plate before her.
    She straightens her dress
    and adjusts her bonnet’s bow.

THE BITE THAT TURNS YOU
    Margaret Walcott, 17
    I scan Ingersoll’s.
    There’s only a smattering
    of folk in from the rain,
    which sounds like fingers
    drumming ’pon the roof.
    I turn to sally home.
    I scream liken the angels
    might hear me,
    and hold up my wrist.
    Visiting Reverend Lawson
    and Uncle Ingersoll catch me
    fore I hit the earthen floor.
    They settle me at a table
    and examine my arm.
    By candlelight all see
    that I been bit.
    The Lord adds me
    to the group
    of those who see.
    I am not left behind.
    My eyes bloom wide
    and pretty as the rest
    of the flowers
    growing wild
    in the witches’ garden.

A GARDEN TOGETHER LAYS ROOT
    April 1692
    The mayflowers
    bloom now.
    Heart-shaped pink and white
    blossoms sweeten the wind.
    Winter’s scraggly witch hazel
    and furred pussy-willow buds
    crouch not alone
    on the hillside.
    The spring air smells
    ripe and ready.

IMPIOUS DISRUPTIONS
    Margaret Walcott, 17
    Meeting seems smaller near the pulpit.
    â€™Tis like we be closer to the Lord.
    The front pew smells not
    of dung-covered boots.
    Martha Corey grips her bench,
    refusing to look on us girls
    now she been accused.
    Though none dares defy
    a preacher during sermon,
    Abigail do rise and say
    to the visiting Reverend,
    â€œStand up and name your text.”
    Ann announces that Goody Corey’s
    spirit and her yellow bird
    perch high above the congregation.
    She says the black-eyed bird flies
    to Reverend Lawson’s hat
    hanging on the front door peg.
    â€œI see it too!” Betty says.
    Mercy and Elizabeth nod and agree.
    Do they all really see except for me?
    Abigail cries and points at Goody Corey,
    â€œWitch and her familiar!”
    Isaac shakes his head
    when she cries out.
    His eyes scold and judge.
    His face full of disgust
    like Abigail speaks
    in drunk soldier’s tongue.
    Reverend Parris and Mister Putnam
    hush us then: “Quiet your tongues
    and let good Minister Lawson
    finish his sermon.”
    I sneak behind the meetinghouse
    before afternoon sermon,
    but for the first time
    Isaac be not there.
    My stomach squeezes
    and I trip over a rock.
    Why is he not there?
    What have I done?
    Did he not like what I did
    in the forest?
    Where is Mercy?
    Someone seizes my shoulders.
    Martha Corey turns me to her and scolds,
    â€œI will dispel these accusations.
    I am a Gospel woman.
    I will stand victorious
    against you and your mischievous friends.”
    Her breath steams across my cheek.
    But before I can speak one word,
    the other girls circle round me
    like the Queen’s guard
    till Martha Corey be gone.
    Ann says, “Do not fear, Margaret,
    that witch will be known.”
    I nod at her and the other girls.
    Except for Mercy. I stare on her.
    Sunlight runs over Mercy
    and her golden temptress hair
    liken some waterfall of jewels.
    Who will protect me
    from the witch
    among us girls?

DISTRACTED CHILDREN
    Mercy Lewis, 17
    The courtroom chatters and churns.
    Goody Corey raises her eyes at us,
    as if to say, “I’ll get you girls.”
    Ann’s eyes roll back until
    only the whites show,
    and someone in the crowd cries,
    â€œBewitched!”
    â€œWe must not believe
    all that these distracted children say,”
    Martha Corey insists as she stands
    for examination. Her eyes twitch
    gray as a storm. She smooths her