Tenebris Brew

What’s your favorite recipe?

She grinds the nightshade
 in the marble mortar.

It smells green,
 and earthy –
 with something bitter
 just beneath.

She stirs Hawthorne berries
 and ashes,
her gnarled hands
 firm and steady
 as the boughs
 of eldritch trees.

A smile
 contorts her mouth
as the poison
 bleeds from
 the leaves and fruit.

The elixir is dark,
 thick as congealed blood.

Wretched.

Shadows twist
   and coil,
  spilling from the stone vessel,
   snaking tight
  around her wrists,
    hissing
    an incantation,
     a lullaby
     of ichor
     and oblivion.