The Huntress

i’m going hunting

© Minestrone / Wikimedia Commons

i arch my back into

the strong arc

of the huntress moon

and sharpen my sights

and my mind.

 

i stalk these woods,

abandoned

for many stained years,

and crush the delicate lavender

under my breathless feet.

 

you should have remembered

my dear

my once but

no longer

belovéd

that no man may move

through my world unmarked,

and that my mark

is a mar

that brings with it

both a certain kind

of beauty and the

sheerest drop of pain.

 

yes,

i’m going hunting

and i won’t stop

until you request

to bear my brand

on the inside

of your skin.

 

i won’t stop

i’m the huntress . . .