Under an opaline moon,

strawberry-seed stars,

her crisp syllables and dancing breathes;

turbulent and luscious is the tone with which

the song peels from her lips.

Dappled skin, devouring mind,

she prays to the velvet sky

for omnipotence

and a nourishment no wealth can buy her.

Watch how she spins, tip-toeing

on a loose-rocked cliff.

What she craves, no one can give.

She is oh so rich

but she will not be able to afford

salvation.

A father’s ambition,

a mother’s abandonment,

she is stripped clean,

open and raw.

Her claws, her bite

build her image impenetrable.

She will forget 

her mortality

and death will meet her 

at the edge of her dreams.