no lady

No Lady.

She, the hex with magic charms, stands in a forest’s
clearing and smiles brightly, rich and translucent
white is her body, rosebuds on her breasts; in scented
air, floats multi coloured moons and silver stars.

I’m drawn to her ethereally sensuality, she and I,
and it is much more what pedestrians call love,
a rabbit and a hare, nature’s cowards, warn me not
to approach; but I laugh at their comic alarm.

Just as I’m to touch her, a wild boar butts her bum,
in the air she flies lands on a bush full of religious
thorns; blue flames darts from her mouth, and foul
language stinks of phosphorous in the clearing.

So now we know, she ain’t no lady and heartily
we laugh, the rabbit, hare and I, but not the boar
it didn’t think it was a mirthful matter, humorless
and brave it knows not of fear