It's Still Life

The Old Woman and the Second-Hand Spellbook – (Domestic Maleficia)

the old woman drags home the tome—
its spine cracked like a bad omen,
its margins scribbled with “TRY THIS :)”
in what might be blood
or very committed raspberry jam.

the neighbour’s cat
(now a black market bibliomancer)
sniffs a page and sneezes:
“ah. cursed. discounted. perfect.”

the dead woman flips to chapter 12:
“summoning groceries
(or at least a decent snack)”
and stabs her finger at a footnote:

this spell requires one virgin olive oil—
do we look like virgins to you?

the crow, ever the pragmatist,
drops a coupon for 20% off hex removals
into the cauldron.
the spellbook hiccups.
a single, confused turnip
materialises in the sink.

“close enough,” shrugs the old woman,
basting the turnip with expired kombucha.

the cat, meanwhile,
has already auctioned the “TRY THIS :)” page
on the dark web.