My first thought was the passage that begins "Come back to me/, my language./Come back/cacao/grigri/ciseaux/the scissor bird."" in Derek Walcott's Saint Lucie. That's not finding, though, but searching.

How about this:

I shape a circle, symbol of all space,
Within its bounds I lay all secrets bare
They're plain to me, and open to the air.
So I command the truth to show her face
By the one power that has granted full grace
To those who come before her and who dare
Cede their desires into her perfect care.
She will perform for glory of the chase.
Now in the circle underneath my hand
Turn as you will, you shall not get away
But must come patient to the sacred ground
where you will wait, where you will calmly stand,
obedient to the least small word I say
Willed to the spot, now safely home and found.