Maria Ouspenskya is the gypsy
fortune teller who looks into your palm
traces with her gnarled fingers
the outline of the pentacle
the career line and the life line
yoked with the line of fate
she traces the poem of your future
the arc of the life line away
around the mound of Venus
and the small moon that comes
howling from the mound of Luna
in sleep it whispers
tracks the scent in chill autumn air
fog rolling over the water
across the tops of frost scored weeds
over the top of the heart line
where the line of destiny
ends in a Vee
the sign of the hunter
a silver bullet in his eyes