A DANGEROUS WOMAN

I am a dangerous woman, my lust
so large I could eat small cities,
the hunger in my skin wide enough
to gobble up entire galaxies without
a pause: a mere brush along a forearm
a wisp of hair across my lips could
accelerate me to the speed of light
in the time it takes to whisper yes.
Wise women hide your men behind your
skirts, don't let them get the scent
of me for no one's safe from desire hot
enough to melt the sun. They'll be drawn
like moths to beat their wings against
the glass that shields the flame. Men
take your cover when the moon is high,
it is your rut I seek, resist the urge
to call me from the desert hills at night
your throats turned upward to release
your bay. It's out of my control.
I cannot hold the tide that roars, a wild
thing looming through the darkness,
a freight train bearing down on me.

© Joan Barton, 1998

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