Baba Yaga and the Maiden

Baba Yaga slick with witch’s butter,
cavorting in her hut on fowl’s legs.

Maiden taunts her with memories,
gives up on the flying mortar.

Baba Yaga measures the winter,
converts the unfaithful.

Maiden produces shears,
she's hardwired not to blush.

[RK, 1/26/21]