poetry · Recent

Pussy Fights Back

Part 2 for the Spooky Slam… totally different style for me so I’m a bit nervous about reading this. So we’ll see how it goes.

 

This is the night.

Football players transform to monsters

that break young women under bleachers,

behind dumpsters,

in their own beds because

the screams didn’t sound

enough like “no.”

But they’re not monsters anyone can see.

Except tonight.

Tonight they show as the creatures they are.

Tonight she can scent them on the wind.

Tonight, the transformation takes place.

Tonight, pussies won’t be grabbed,

because Pussy fights back.

The soul of a panther, summoned to inhabit.

She stands before the mirror, watching as her

limbs become muscled,

her ears

Tufted triangles, her teeth and nails thicken and

come to a sharp

point.

She can see in the dark. She can hear the breathing

and quick pulses of the monsters

as they hunt.

Now they are hunted.

Her prey senses her–

But not fast enough.

Before he can grab her, fangs are deep in throat, ripping

flesh and jugular. The taste of copper

–red, thick, viscous–

on her tongue.

She spits the poison from her mouth.

More demons lurk nearby at a party;

They aren’t her goal tonight.

A rally is near.

Leaping through trees, the scent grows

stronger, and settles in the pit

of her stomach.

There are so many gathered tonight.

But she really only cares about one.

He blathers from the podium, hate-filled

nonsense leaving his lips and evoking cheers

from the fear-blind, hate-sated crowd.

She’s on the stage; security can barely

see her as she slinks along invisible

as the feline goddess vibrates within her.

Nothing but rage as the words echo

“You just grab them by the pussy”

and she flashes back to the boy,

he raped her

and her father, he

blamed her and the men

all rise to defend the monster that stands

right there, just two feet away, now.

Oh, yes, tonight

Pussy fights back.

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