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Little Red

Your red hood on high, 

Riding fast through the countryside– 

My little red hood; 

Blood rose, cherry pit, 

Sangiovese, open-wound. 

Bicycle basket stuffed with muffins

And other little 



And What-evers. 

Your wheels dash the earth about, 

Zipping through grasses, 

Whipping your feet as you pass. 

I watch you from a distance. 

Cloaked in threads of ardent red; 

The garden is your bed. 

Or it will be 

Soon enough. 

I prowl in bushes, moving slowly, 

Breathing hushes– 

Whispers to my all-revealing howl. 

You are a tender little devil 

And my heart will never settle 

On just which way I endeavour 

To devour you – whole? 

A trail left behind of 

Bike tracks and bread crumbs. 

The sun falls to sleep between the mountains,

And I follow you home.

Date submitted: 8 October 2023

Date accepted: 14 November 2023

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