Red Hood

 

Little Red skips through the outback
Trailing a red balloon:
I-trial, the floating word.
She carries her silvery bridle down the path.
When she crosses the stream
She falls in.
Uproar in the south.

Worlds withdraw from little chick.
Names & letters: goners.
Beating the grass heart
She stutters after her belongings
Alone, without politics
Sliding from mother to wolf.

----

Little Red stumbles through an empty square.
The disappearance of all bodies
Gives geometry a bad name.

"Proper being is potential,"
Declares the wolf. Other words
Of a bad conscience:

Poor little chick, hiding
Behind red lips.
Flapping apart

Neither will be saved.
One accurate part performs like a tongue
Splitting right from left

In the flat out songs.
Your house of skin is all wind, sings the wolf.
My body is every body, she replies.

---

The wolf spreads out into idleness
Even as Little Red squeals,
O tender bite - !
Finally eating the grass heart,
The wolf is no longer embarrassed.
Distrust, disconnection, dishonesty -
He licks the dishes. Takes a nap.

It was so beautiful, that minute.
Little Red regrets how she did love it
Or not exactly.
As reddish puckers, the ballerinas,
melted into her skin, our red
Mistress tasted throat burger.
Wolf story gleamed under her cloak.

 

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