running through my honey hair, leaving
my scalp bleeding. His scummy stare Medusa,
turning me to stone. His arms cleavers,
shattering my bones. His mouth

a volcano. Instead of saliva,
what swam through his gums was
molten hot lava. I couldn’t move. I fell
into the fiery pit. It wasn't hard to do, with his

dark looks and quick wit. If we
hadn't met I'd fly like a steel eagle into that orange
sunset, out over the horizon. And walk
among the burly bison.