The Lady


A hearty brunch from ossuary come,

The Lady's teeth do creak and hum,

A mouthful pleased, pursed mouth doth moan,

The Lady savours both skin and bone.

 

At acme of power, ragged with time,

Her dusty cloth and hat in twine,

Hang listless from her shoulders do,

An arid stance of life she spew.

 

Abhorrent to reason, she bathe in moon,

A wrinkled flash of dishonest plume,

Her hat adorned with feathered beast,

Unholy end, she did quick feast.

 

Fortuitous desire hast left her here,

Done piecemeal are her acts so queer,

Abyss nor cage may seal her none,

Intrepid luck, or idle scum.

 

Await she does, with prickled smile,

Phantasmal wretch, an endless mile,

Travel in guise under rusted sky,

Sunlit earth hast passed her by.

 

In time she waits, unending still,

The lady craves her thoughtless fill,

Pungent pleasure, stolen, not shared,

She culls the image of unprepared.

 

Morsels that fill untimely jaws,

And mishaps few do miss her claws,

The Lady waits, for thee most true,

A muffled muse, of thought askew.

 

Treasured most are morsels thin,

Her eyes do watch the walls within,

Her hovel small, and dank between,

Bones be picked, pure white, pristine.

 

The Lady knows of fears untold,

A muffled shriek from home be bold,

The Lady waits, and whispers false,

With hands that beckon, pull, and pulse.

© copyright Eve Redwater 2011

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6 thoughts on “The Lady

  1. Sugar, spice and all things nice
    This lady is not
    war, famine and prejudiced lies
    honeyed lure to hide her rot

    or at least that was my interpretation of your poem. – Steven (Archonsg)

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