The Witches Poem by Vicki Feaver

My sister's screams
brought Mummy running:
Did you push her?
They drove to the hospital
leaving me alone in the house.

I read a book by the window
until I couldn't see the words.
Too scared to turn on the light,
I watched ghostly white roses
disappear into the dark.

Once, in a fever, I'd dreamed
of witches who lived in the loft
flying through the hatch.
Now they crouched
behind the wings of my chair.

I tried not to breathe,
pretending to be dead
like the stone girl in the churchyard
or my sister if all her blood
rolled out of her leg.

If she died, people
would think I was sad.
The witches knew the truth -
smelling my wickedness
with huge hooked noses.