One of the Nine Daughters of Mnemosyne and Zeus

Texting is vexing and I’m tasting her hex
thrown in my mouth like how violence becomes sex.
Wrestling with decisions, to devour or protect?
As I try to shake her words and the intent they reflect.

Stalker, stalk her, swinging in a tree
Kay eye ell ell eye enn ME.
Connections in directions we don’t always see
in the face of temptation we fight, fuck and flee.

Her walk is a sway like how trees bow and bend
delivering that look as she sharply intends
to mock the way animals attempt to be men
and her age betrays youth as it always has been.

Hedonist heeding this, clamoring for vision
feeding this, needing this, a delicate incision
opening the skin and bleeding sweet suspicion
as the walls tighten down ’round this secret little prison.

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