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Mistress Mantis.

Eyebrows like the wings
of a bird in flight
pushing down against
a violent lift
by the wind.

Lids drawn down
still betray a world
isolated, dominated
by its own pressure.

Inside, she surfs the tension,
soaking it in, lost
in the trance she naturally
elicits when one cares
enough to pay attention.

He wants deeper.
Yearns to be within.

Renegade locks
cascade over her carved
features, face unveiling
itself to be a battleground
between the ego’s last stand
and the look of triumph
on a predator’s face

as she sinks her teeth
in for the first time
into her painstakingly
tracked, prized prey.

Mistress Mantis
is hungry.

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