You cut all her hair off and buried her
for 17 years and now she appears,
smeared in underworld grime
your worst fears manifest.
no longer a slave to your concepts
of space and time,
led on by the diamond-hard
grudge in her breast, held close
and allowed to grow teeth.
your mind, defined by the surface
is powerless to grasp
what lies underneath,
the fires in her eyes,
the size of her hate-
lying in wait.
you tried to preserve her petals
with hairspray and fit her in jars.
you pulled her wings off
with pliers and groped her in bars.
those who are born
are doomed to be torn apart
at the hands of those who are forged
and the voracious will always devour
and overpower the sluggish
and the engorged.
do not forget what you buried
one night out there in the mud.
over time, some sharpened edges
develop a craving for blood.