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 –
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
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.