She’s not an easy muse to approach,
traveling as she does only at night 

with a pack of feverish
wild dogs, their mouths gaping open, teeth revealed, hot spit dripping
from their jaws. 

To call on her you
must first tame your fear of the inky night,
her faithful companions and your own unclaimed dark powers. 

Set out into the shadows when the moon
has withdrawn from view, go down to the crossroads and wait. 

You may catch a glimpse of her harrowing profile, hounds by her side,
keys jangling from 

a serpentine belt. 

Stare into her torchlit face as an east wind whispers courage
in your ear. 

You may begin to detect
the outline of possibility
reflected in her sunken black eyes. 

[Susan Bennett (she/her) is a poet, activist, and ritualist, leading women’s spirit circles in Northern Virginia for two decades. Her poems have been published in Ekphrastic Review, 50 Haikus, Amethyst Review, Gargoyle Magazine, Rise Up Review, Artemis Journal, Cauldron Anthology and the Menopause Anthology, published by Arachne Press. ]