ichor

DON'T BELONG TO NO MAN

ARTEMIS | AND THE GIRL HOWLED AND SAID, I AM ONE WITH THE MOON AND NEVER WITH YOU.

     she runs barefoot
     through the wilderness,
     and some swear they saw
     wolves in her shadow;
     her footsteps shake the ground
     but she slips silently
     through trees and grass
     like she was meant to hide between them
     (she was never meant
     for earth.)
     ethereal beauty radiates
     from her very being,
     as she stands lit by moonlight;
     skin dark as ebony,
     eyes haunted by the stars.

     you could take her
     for an angel,
     but child, make no mistake—
     she is anything but.
     (just ask the many boys
     who dared to taunt her,
     if you can find
     what's left of them.)
     silver tipped arrows shiver
     at her hand,
     but unlike cupid
     hers are never aimed for pleasure
     and they never miss their mark;
     one wrong move
     one slighted girl
     and she'll be there,
     defender of every girl
     who's heart a foolish boy
     has dared to mangle.
     men of every age and creed
     have come to fear her steely gaze,
     the subtle growl in her voice
     growing to a crescendo of
     righteous fury and rage—

     but hush.

     kneel.
     hold out your hands,
     and wait.

     eyes stare out from hollow sockets
     awaiting penance
     and retribution.
     saver of girls but lover of none,
     she awaits the day when
     the whole human race
     can repay her for the one it took
     from her;
     silly mortals starting bloody games
     they are too weak to finish,
     and that moonlit girl
     with constellations in her skin
     went to join the stardust
     she was made from.

     there was never a less quiet forest,
     never a more agonized heart,
     than the one of the goddess
     set in darkness,
     who loved but once
     and lost.

     her silent army of war hardened girls
     still buckles at that sound,
     and they erase the name
     from their tongues,
     but still their silver warrior
     demands payment.
     a thousand men will never
     be worth the life they took,
     but she will never stop seeking
     her justice.

     let the little girls worship
     her bloodstained,
     war torn beauty;
     let the little boys revel
     in her rage;
     let them all grow to love her—
     and let them all die
     afraid.