After Zak Ove
Come, follow me, young man, into the forest. Come. You like the sway of my hips, and my secret smile?
Then come, follow me, if you want to see more, to touch more. I’ll be all yours in the hidden forest away from the waging tongues.
Pay no mind to my necklace of antique nails or the weathered ropes I wear like a scarf or shawl. It’s just my unique style.
Come. Not yet. Don’t peak under my wide brimmed hat or under my long skirts. Patience, you naughty boy.
Come follow me and I’ll be all yours in time. Brass horns and trumpets I adorn because I love to make merry and dance.
African mask I wear because I know where my people come from. Smelling of jasmine and rose with a hint of decay. Come.
Pay no mind to the way I walk, one foot on the road and one beached tree trunk for a cow’s hoof in the grass. Come.
Come into the forest, deep into the forest where the trees are tall and thick and no one will hear you scream as you are lost and fall down a ravine.
Listen, I need you, handsome young soul, to keep my own beautiful. I feed off your fear and lostness and fall.
Listen I’m happy to own my own narrative again. They call me La Jablesse- she-devil.
Listen, I say, I’m a woman in control of who she be and who she chooses to take to forest, to bed, and to death.