A Little Red
She wanders into a fairytale wood,
She could never have known he was there
Until he was on top of her.
He was a wolf, with
Her tongue between his teeth:
He bit and ripped.
Darling, she had never been so speechless
And her blood was just lipstick to him
And her quiet was his favourite song.
She tried to speak;
Bloodied, choking, gargling, and
Pronouncing words with a mouth full,
Spitting blood on the page
Gasping for breath: he had never loved her more.
Red is the colour of the whore
And she was his quiet little slut,
The best thing a girl could be
In a fairytale like this.
So with her tongue in his mouth
He left, and the girl somehow survives.
She walked out the woods with everything.
Everything, but a tongue and a maidenhood.
A silence followed behind her
And her story was never told.
Poetry by Luke Cable 