“Was it the backless back of a black dress that did it?”
They’ll ask, loudly
even though the wolves that roam these streets
are merely feigning sleep
and are starving
“Yes!”
They will agree
as drool slips from the hinge of a wolfish grin
from the forked tongue
of an angel
“What else could she expect?”
Of course
they must abide by the code of the pack(of course)
which is of course
the root of disrespect
“How obscene! How uncouth!”
(how to measure human flesh)
as if they could hold up her “no(s)” to his “yes”
which is bigger and louder
and stronger
“Yes! … Yes! … Yes!”
As if to them
to the wolves, to the men, to the uncondemned
what happened, really
was for the best.