She came to me when vengeance raged through my veins.
I expected to see her in passing as winter neared—
thought I’d nod and slightly swoon as our eyes locked.
She looks everything Mattel wanted to sell you as a kid—
blonde, tall warrior build, a face like Karen Mulder,
and an unexpected sunniness that surrounds, protects and calms you
—even when you’re struggling to breathe and focus.

I’m spiraling when she appears. Uncertainty engulfs me;
my friend’s projected warnings make me nauseous and choke,
but Skaði offers me hope, a blanket, and some mead.
She strings her bow, places snowshoes on my feet
and offers to guide me through whatever blizzards
and ice storms appear during the season.

Marisa is a poet, bruja, spirit companion, and contributing writer for Pussy Magic. Growing up in the Southwest influenced her magickal practices, and she considers herself a kitchen witch. In her free time, she enjoys reading about the Fae Folk, scandals in Old Hollywood, and the spirits of the sea. She is obsessed with kitschy motels in the desert, mermaids, vampires, and pinups. In her twenties she attended UEA in England, and misses being able to sit in pubs, people watch, and write. You can find her on Instagram, Tumblr, and Twitter @thesweetmaris.