will you be my escort
tonight? they told me you
like little broken girls.
what about demons scratching
at you date’s insides while
you struggle to order the foie
gras over her heaving
sobs? candlesticks scattered
over master bedroom floors,
setting your ancestral home
ablaze? do you like girls
with rusty cages for ribs
and arms that bend backwards?

you will not find a lily white
nymphet in me, my dashing
suitor. I am pitchforks in
the arms of angry villagers,
carousels that won’t stop
spinning until you
lose your lunch, static
on the TV screen. Find me
half-asleep in the bilberry
bush, hair and limbs a-
tangled like some unholy mess
you don’t want to clean

I promise not to come quietly;
I am a screeching harpy of
a girl and I will claw and
tear my way through anyone
who lays a finger on me.  You
want a kitten, childlike, bone
china hands and breakable
bones, but here I am. And I
will always choose the devil
over you.

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