by Shannon Abbott

She takes risks walking in the night alone,
feeding desperately on the cold moonlight.
Danger must be something which she is prone,
entering a monster’s den for more to bite.
Eerie music whispers to her, baby—
She tumbles into a haven for hell.
Beasts in tailcoats begin to serve her tea,
and red lace covets her like a love spell.
It seems she has crashed the devil’s birthday,
accidently, on her midnight walk.
With wine and cake and whiskey she might stay,
though her family will protest and talk.
     Yet here in hell she feels so safe and true.
     To women at night, she invites you too