By Cayt Mirra

A sweet little maid –

Her cloak very becoming

(As if that were important).

Make haste, walk properly and nicely

And don’t run;

Don’t forget to say good morning.

*These were her lessons*


Running about among the flowers

She was lost –

Heading farther

And farther

Into the woods.


And so when she met the wolf with his salivating snout

She was not afraid

But said good morning.

She was a tender young thing.

She didn’t know better and

After all

The stories had taught her that nothing bad would happen to her, really.


He had smelt her before he saw her.

She almost made it too easy.

All the better to eat you with my dear.

Sharp fangs tearing through soft flesh.

The word ‘Please’ floated meaninglessly through the air.


In the story the huntsman cuts her

Out of the wolf.

She fills the wolf with stones as if

The weight of her pain can hurt him now.


But real girls are not cut free from the stomach of a monster.

Real girls decompose there.