We don’t feel comforted by the witch in our the path. Her arms
Criss-crossed her hunch a judgement. Her multiplicity
A signal of deception. False face. But
We always imagined there would be someone here,
Judging. What is a witch but a concentration
of energy?*Or is that magic? We conjure magic
the moment we choose. We destroy other options. Why
do we look for rewards when we know there are none? Why
do we ask for a sign when we only ever follow the path
we choose. Someone said we are spiraling out
of control but a spiral is predictable—very measured.
The witch has the power
to move things towards
or away from you. She
consulted the dead.
They already know your fate. Her torch
Lights both ways.
It only looks like a choice. Reality is a
cherry stem. Both directions
lead to fruit and pit. Sister Fortuna
sighs. Her nipples pointing both east
*from the film The Love Witch, 2016, directed by Anna Biller
Suzanne Richardson is currently a professor of English at Utica College in Utica, NY. Her work has appeared in New South, New Ohio Review, and Blood Orange Review, among others.
The Ekphrastic Review
Find a writer, artist, or poem, etc. by searching here: