Vixen

Ignore advances, evade men

I am what they imagine I do.
Their eyes take mine through narrow
hallways, trace my steps down darkened
lots. They cannot trap me; let them
try. Wherever I go, they wonder
where I will end up next. Let them
guess. I am red apples on tips
of tall trees. Ladders do little,
ladders cannot reach. Men hunger,
women whisperyou, witness,
you yearn yet reach only for sweet
fruit. Have you met me? I am the
nosebleed you receive in a midnight caress; waking, you touch me,
although I have left. That scent? Hot
young chicken wafting through a black
room; breadcrumbs, jelly beans, ruby
rocks, nothing tempts me. Cold, I sleep
only with fire; warm, I was born
into winter, dark Russian days. See me
come spring, plot my path, catch me
like rain in a bucket of holes
hold me for now, then watch me go.