No Bijou Girl
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Do not accuse me of a feline mien;
you may mistake disdain for kitten's coy.
I am no toy, no gilded top
that spins a glittered path across
the table top.
I am no pearl, no bijou girl
to grace monsieur's fine earlobe or
his pinky ring.
I'm hard as glass, a brittle churl
to hurl an insult as a stone
against a window pane.
So do not toy with me,
I'm plainly quite a fright,
a knife slice in the night.
Your pain is my delight,
and I will batter bruises on
your sternum bone.
I've had enough of men. I'd sooner slit
your wit than kiss your hem, and you
can take your pride and hide
it where the blows won't show.
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