She stalks the night
with two facades:
One side a wolf
The other the ghost
of a hanged woman
from the Salem days
She pretends
she can’t be seen
She steals the skins
of wealthy men
Clean babies from
their bassinets
She works her magic
in the greasy air,
barks at the moon
as the stars align
Its face reflected
in her crystal eyes
She drops down on all fours
and sheds her skin,
She tears off her mask
and begins again
About the AuthorStephanie Smith's debut poetry collection, "Dreams of Dali", is available from Flutter Press. Her work has appeared in such publications as DECOMP, EVERYDAY POETS, THE HORROR ZINE, and BLUESTEM. She lives in Scranton, Pennsylvania.
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