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What I Learned from Bewitched
A girl could have a boy’s name and still be beautiful.
Sometimes exchanges between husband and wife
would be boring—all pot roast and brisket.
Yet, a twitch of the nose and clean dishes
could appear like a universe rewilding—
but what good was traditional magic
if Sam stayed with what’s-his-name?
How could anyone love a man
the opposite of handsome, only begrudgingly kind?
What if the network had written in a new lover?
If together the two women had cleansed the neighborhood
of bigotry and crime? I studied Bewitched as my mother bleached
the kitchen sink, let down hems from hand-me-down coats.
I studied alchemy, parsed out which broomstick to choose.
Abracadabra survival, abracadabra something-something new— 
First Carpool Retrospective
What I Learned from Bewitched