the burlesque poetess(s)

@James_Graichan (paid) and commissioned a villanelle on wolves in sheeps clothing, or something to that effect. i think the last villanelle i wrote was jr year of high school, and about rainbows. tee hee. more commissions en route, folks. thanks for your patience.

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14. The fabled forest of innuendo

Her garters were in fact redder than her hood.
A dagger hid glinting inside her shepherdess crook,
she blushed to think of stalking prey in this wood.

She squished hidden toads it seemed wherever she stood.
Grandmum’d once said, “You’ll end up in a bear trap with your head in a book!”
Her garters were in fact redder than her hood.

She’d let a hunter see and snap their lace once, “Could
you show me the path to the caves? In exchange for this look?”
She blushed to think of stalking prey in this wood,

but went daisy pale as his leather’d hand warmed, started to feel good
shepherding her thighs apart, atop a barstool she shook
her bonnet off. Her garters were in fact redder than her hood.

After much mead, she slipped her blade in his codpiece, he understood
little as she sliced a lock of his shorthairs, a trophy she took.
She laughed and flushed to think of stalking prey in this wood.

She followed his advice, wolf tracks to the dark cavern. Should
she call out to her Grandmother’s coven, announce she’d found their nook?
Her garters were in fact redder than her hood,
she’d arrived with a pelt, no longer maiden prey in this wood.

xo your poetess, j.m. lazar