You're the kind of girl mum should have warned me about
the kind that creeps slowly under skin
the kind that trips fuses in unsuspecting hearts
just by walking past with your warrior stride.
The kind of girl that takes you to the back of a gig
and drowns out the noise with her eyes
as kisses end with a bitten lip and a come get it half smile.
Your face is a lie of innocence
it hides a wildfire spirit
of which Daddy would never approve
his little girl, now a pastime of pleasure,
honoured saintess of the tease
masterfully turning screws
with nimble fingers
before laughing at desire.
Expert level players
fight pointless duels in your name
placing bids to win moments
eyeing the neck of the bottle you swig
while gageing the circumference of your rosy mouth.
I watch them rise at your stare
blood and hope rushing as one
ridiculous in their optimistic dash
to no release.
You're the kind of girl mum should have warned me about
the kind that fashions hope from empty wanting
the kind that views hearts with disdain
the kind I'll fall in love with
again and again.

I wonder: 'Who is Zeus?'
Who is the son of traitorous Kronos and beleaguered Rhea?
You: a declaration: intent on becoming: "Tell me,"
He is the folly of Man given might, a thunderbolt blight,
bled black Kemet, fallacy bent unto wretched epithet:
Elicius-largest: Jupiter ascendant.

This is Your tale, babe of squalor:
royal illusion ( ) delusion pressed
red into the white of Our marble edification:
table dressed in bronze/blade a throated song/stinging queens
spited joy

'Oh, Hera, honoured Mother: a saintess I have become.'
'A saintess.'
'A saintess.'
'A sinner/killer/thief of ****-driven masculinity.'

"I am Zeus: King and ****** of all things gentle!"
figment derived authority
a boy unborn from womb-destroyed embroidery/legitimacy bought with coin

"Tell me this tale."