Hail Satan— 

Kiss, Kiss, 

I perch like a possession 

in the thicket of a mesquite tree, 

two amber eyes shooting 

through your cottage window. 

I’m the one who 

devours grandmas. 

Tin cup, milky tea 

pine needles, honey 

drizzle, the steamy 

lubricant glides down my 

throat, slides the lingering 

taste of her skin like baked 

puff pastry, by the hearth 

I ate everything but the liver 

and rotted teeth. 

In her frilly pink nightgown, 

cotton socks and demeanor, 

I feel extra yummy tonight. 

I see how she saw, spectacles 

hugging snout, skin smell, 

death coating my angular 

cheeks like cold cream. 

Little green girl, you are too late 

no matter how much I want to fold you into my molars, it is simply too late 

little girl. This dance is finished, 

This cycle—Soon the woodsman 

seduces me with his axe, 

I will spill onto the floor 

and stay with you forever 

in every reflection and dream 

and before you know it 

with glassy eyes, sanguine 

tongue you too will peer 

into cottage windows, 

but I don’t know when.