Lioness

A poem about the life of a working girl.

Hers is the glory of the hunt
Slight raindrops wounding
Swimming hall shower room kind of pain
Prowling, the one Plath warned us about
Rainfall washing off the pelt
Orion sparkling on
Injured skin, she-beast
Mouths to feed

Starlight scrying
Way to see through hearts of granite
Emerged from heavenly seas
Aeons ago the queen of the
Grimy underworld
Trenchcoat devil through the looking glass
You would pass by and shiver
Cross on her chest, though
It doesn't speak out loud

Guns that shoot roses
The most dangerous kind
Feeling no thorns you take it inside
Your soul for further use
One morning you see she has
Made a home for herself

Author's Note

Any comments are welcome.