North Carolina Miscellany
witch story drunk on liquefied wells of ovum bitter sweet yarrow an unwavering resolve of incubation.
This ending suggests that the poem is about more than an infant playing with his morning eggs. The eggs and their intimate devouring parallel creation and destruction within our universe (“puddle lake full of sunshine,” to name one metaphor), as well as the female persona – hence “witch story.” Singh artfully blends a childlike imagination with the act of creating, particularly through the body. In “How to Collect Blessings like a Newborn,” Singh suggests babies “bury poems inside bodies /. . . / follow chants, own a tingsha bell,” lines that follow the logic of the previous poem. The poet doesn’t shy away from celebrating the woe of the body in “Menopausal Orcas”: “earth’s womb holds / rivers folding into
creases / mother’s marionette lines / now mine,” suggesting the heaviness and frailty of a body simultaneously. These lines also parallel our relationship with Nature by metaphorically linking earth’s womb with the mother’s. Witching Hour is full of poems of joy and celebration. Lines such as “her heart / is an orchard / of being. / it chuckles sometimes” in “We Swallow 8 Spiders in a Lifetime” engage a reader’s sense of humor. A common image is the forest, which provides a metaphorical space for healing, leading to joyful community. “Instructing a Yoga Class” offers these lines: “Find afterlife in craters touch their hollow / make space for the woman adjacent too / browse barefoot into the frangipani forest / follow in footprints of a mycorrhizal web.” The space after “craters” exemplifies a hollow crater, offering concrete symbolism for the poem’s image.
ABOVE Ouroboros, one of the collection’s illustrations by Sufia Khatoon
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Singh’s advice also reminds readers of community and what can be learned from imitating our natural habitations. In “Grandmother Wonders if She Was a C Minus Mother,” Singh reflects on a woman’s concerns following the birth of a grandchild. Although the narrative seems personal, much of the imagery and scope move beyond it. She asks in the poem’s 1998 section, “how much craving can a mother take, how much of mother can a daughter be, / how a fledgling swells inside adjusted body.” In the 2024 section she embraces uncertainty again: “had she been a C minus mother, made poor / parenting choices, did she care enough, sacrifice enough poetry for ancestors, / stay curious.” The poems develop a mythological purpose – a sacrifice to ancestors. Why should poetry be a medium for survival? Singh suggests the answer in “How to Be Boundaryless like a Newborn”: “original words of mercy, acceptance / a bowing inward and into this hatchling god who / stays wrapped in my cradled orison.” Poetry helps her accept life, both distant and present. Witching Hour reminds us of the human urge to create while allowing the freedom to decide to create, and even how to judge oneself in the act of creating. The title may suggest some innate mischief or secrecy to the act of creating, but the pains and trials of giving birth and seeing life develop over time are deeper themes. Witching Hour balances the contradictions of life with artistic grace. n