She Suffers No Fools

There’s a “fuck you”
Coiled around the corners
Of her lips
A rebuke, a lash
Thorns hidden among
The petals
Cunning and coy
An invitation or perhaps a dare
Promising nothing
Equal guarantee of succor
Or sting.

Poised defiance
Knowing she could
Burn any suitor down
To a shell of ribs and ash
Not caring in the slightest
How many fling themselves
Beneath her dainty feet
Falling deliberate devastation
With a long suffering smile
Hinting itself
As we poor fools
Fly gladly into the flame.