In times of old, young girls would bake cakes of flour
mixed with salt and soot and eat it up,
thirsty and love-struck, and if a man offers a drink,
she will be married before the year is out.
Or girls would peel an apple whole
and throw the skin over their shoulder to discern
the initials of their future beloved.
They may set out fresh butter on a new dish,
blue as Mary’s robes, and leave it by a stream beneath a tree, and
say a prayer for their love to return their affection.
As for me, my lover burst into my life and demanded to be let in,
a thin raspy shadow at my ear, whispering it’s never too late.
The moon hangs in the sky like a thin slice of tangerine,
predicting sweetness and foretelling good times ahead.
Those girls never knew what was coming.
Melanie Walker is a Utah-native living in Georgia. She received her BA in English from Weber State University. She enjoys reading, writing, photography, and hiking as well as spending time with her family and pet, KitKat.
Artwork: Carlos Quevedo, “Inner Oracle”