Red Ridinghood

Running through the trees
in a skirt to my knees
bare from my belly to my locks

I flee from a beast
who desires to feast
upon my tender bones and flesh

My heart is racing
And the beast is pacing
Every step I make

But is it fear in my heart
of being ripped apart
and left along the wayside?

Or do I panic
my stomach sick
because of trembling desire?

If I hestitate
If I stop and wait
Will he feast upon flesh or virtues?

I hear his breathing
Dream of his teething
And bumps race across my skin

Virtuous or not
My body is hot
And his rage may only be lust

If I pause
And await his claws
I shall not utter a single word ....

12/27/97