When the bitch said ‘no’
She’s a tiger, flying
strawberry with cloud stripes.
Spear-cut teeth, she shreds flesh
into ribbon paper lilies.
Her paper mache claws bury bodies
of atrophied tree bridges.
Zeppelin lungs breathe her flame
into sunscape funeral pyres.
Her sniper swift tail preys
on the courage of prairie winds.
The magic in her every stalking prowl
fashions mountains of broken glass.
She’s a tiger, flying away
from cages and crystal roofs.