Grim Fairy Tale By Dawn E. Powell She played Little Red Riding Hood One too many times, the fiery virgin Wearing a red-laced garter under her cloak. She was queen of the forest, Carrying fantasies to grandma's house In a phallic basket, enticing wolves To the habitat which, really, was theirs. She played in the dens, on the homemade beds (with neatly tucked hospital corners). Lay on them with forked-bone legs, Challenging the animals in her best Mae West: "Come on, boys, make a wish." And they did, the hungry wolves- - Couldn't keep their paws off, not even When the blood rained down on them And the flesh bruised like a dead apple. Still, when the wolves finished partaking Of Little Red's basket, and the spotlights dimmed, They wanted more - - the talk of profit, The masculine cheering. © 1996, Dawn E. Powell