Three Poems//Alex Vigue

Fat Witch



Fat Witch boils your old bedspread
in their cast iron cauldron
the hearth is decorated with
mix tapes, movie ticket stubs, and a shirt
that still smells like him
A candle made of cow ear wax
burns across the room
the fire beneath iron and flickering
wisp form a heart line through you


Fat Witch rubs pine needles into your palms
they prick and sap up the smooth, sensitive skin
“This is to forget his sex” Fat Witch says
you cringe but do not protest


Fat Witch hikes up their jeans revealing
brambles of light blonde leg hair
Fat Witch rolls up their t-shirt
hairy belly flops out
Fat Witch walks around you in circles
rubbing their soft stomach and drawing imaginary lines
on the floor with their big toe


You want to leave but the invisible line
between the fires keeps you pinned
Fat Witch truffle shuffles over to the
cow ear wax candle
and puffs it out
you feel an elastic snap and
then release


You pay Fat Witch with a
bag of peach gummi rings and
a 20oz bottle of diet
cream soda
you no longer remember why
you needed a spell in the
first place




















Fat Witch imbibes like their father
Panamanian rum teased bubbly with diet Dr. Pepper


Fat Witch shores off the callus of day
sips at the late-summer full moon


they pull a gifted deck from the cluttered nightstand
riffle shuffle seven times
for magic and probability’s sake


they make a circle of ten treasures
amethysts from gift shops on family trips
gold plated, sapphire-eyed fish
half marbles from their first set


Fat Witch charges in the grey light
treasures charge
deck charges
they read


It’s the same cross as always
don’t doubt
use rationality, magic’s foil
and keep going


the heat will block their resting
keep their dreams, wear wet socks to sleep
their chill harkens passage


the full face reflection of Sol departs
the last before equinox


Fat Witch feels it in their cold tummy
a siphon string
tugging the tidal gift
taking power for autumn


a challenge issued to take it back















The Return of Fat Witch




Fat Witch knows a spell or two
to make him quiver


Fat Witch wraps the doctor’s legs around Fat Witch’s neck
and shouts a series of words into his hairy middle aged ass
The doctor slumps down and feels la petit mort
he smokes a cigarette to feel another


Fat Witch shows the man who has never ridden a horse
yet still dresses like a cowboy a couple of cum tricks
Fat Witch slurps him up
and lets him dribble out
dangles him out mouth and twirls pearl thread
Fat Witch anoints his forehead with his own business


Fat Witch lures the wide waisted baseball player
with wax paper wrapped fruit tootsie rolls
invites him to bed
encircles him with a ring of off brand gummi worms
Fat Witch rewards his silent hip strip tease
sugar for the tongue
sweets for the tummy
tongue for the cock
lips for the whisper


Old spells are mastered
some men teach new ones
Kindling for their own razing


Alex Vigue is a queer poet from Washington State. He has been published in Phantom Drift, The Fem, Witch Craft Magazine, and is forthcoming in Vinyl. You can find him and links to his other work at