When he saw her in her scarlet hood
his teeth began to grow.
Point by point, they filled his jaw
and his long, hot tongue caressed them.
Red was the color of his desire,
the flaming curl against her cheek,
the roses there that bloomed with every blush,
the cloak that flirted in the shadow
of the forest deep, where he followed.
When he heard the sprinting fear
fleet as a startled doe within her veins,
he began to run.
He was strong and fast and cunning,
but, most frightening of all, he was beautiful.
Red was the color of her desire,
the burning passion of his gaze,
the ruby of his heart, for her alone.
When she stopped, breathless, for him
the forest gave her up.
Red was the color of her death,
the blood upon the perfect sheet,
and fine as crimson gloves
upon his hands.
e. yon 3/11