She carries fire atop her loins,
Spreads it upwards for the world to see,
And to breathe,
Red upon a scenery of pink,
And scents as raw as the flesh carved out
Of a wilderness beneath.
She attracts the goers to the flame,
She makes use of those resorting to disdain,
Brought out of life, and into Hell,
Where she brings up fumes and flame, from the well.
Carry a bucket, should you go to her,
And drain porcelain droplets from the tip of a torch
For her breathy consumption.
Carry the rope,
And tie it about your feet.
Create a bond between yourself and her,
While one end is held upon, by you,
And the other,
Held upon, by her.
She attracts danger
When she attracts the flies
To whatever bleeds, from her