“How beautiful,”
she smiles.
“How beautiful that is.”
Cradling the golden handle
between her fingers
a peaceful silence falls over her.
“Silver and gold,”
she nods with awe,
“it’s a wonder.”
I agree
but cannot say
because it’s no longer mine.
She dumps the water out
not bothering to ask
or even cleanse her hands.
“How much?”
As she glances up,
the magick dies from the space within.
“Nine ninety five,”
is the response
and she walks away to make a sale.
My altar stands empty
and I watch the water
dry into the ground.
Drink from it?
A blasphemy.