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She likes her men older
“so that they’re easier to understand
and don’t take second guessing”
and she likes them from a darker race
“because of the way
they can take care
of a strong smart woman”
which are what she is.
Some of them she seeks
others just come to her
like doomed children
to the Pied Piper

she lays her heart as bait
and the sex and aggression
congenial to them
provides the music
and in a span of a single dance
everything she touches
turns to gold

she wears it in chains
around her pretty neck
with engravings of their names
and her fame
spreads around the city
like wildfire
in a prairie

shortsighted and astigmatic
she lives only for the day
pawning her soul to the Devil
to make the current man stay
but ironies
pulsing like clockwork
in her mind
pushes them away
leaving her womb tired
and her hands empty

they call her alchemist
her raw emotions iron
her poetry gold
the women of the town whisper
and the men they deny knowing her
she sinks deeper and deeper

the older she gets
the stronger she gets
the harder it gets
to conceive
to find more fertile ground
for her seeds

but she’d always tell them
not to mind her
as if giving birth alone were easy
but secretly,
she puts her life on the line
every single time
.

.

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