For frosted fingertips,
Palm the prison’s canopy;
Locked behind some gentleman’s code;
Two-hooded hairpins pulled tighter than day—
Lean forward for twisted feminism;
She claws devil cakes— consumed in time for dessert;
Reeking of some chivalrous tantrum,
She tastes better in morning dress;
Sweep me off my feet, orphan fawn—
For romanticism is overrated— outdated,
Or so they say;
Personally, I’ll take the manners and bouquet,
Before the brain-deads of today.
©Ashley Leslie 2013
