Sigh. She loves me.

[csecooney]

People can be mean.

But hell hath no fury like Amal when people are mean to me.

I love poets.

I love Amal.

Originally posted by tithenai at To a Woman Who Crossed My Lady

For csecooney, on the occasion of her encountering some human-shaped scum.

TO A WOMAN WHO CROSSED MY LADY

I see you lurking, seething spite
For one who's done her work just right
Who's bent and borne your vicious ills
Who's wiped your spit, who's mopped your spills
Who's counted out your rumpled bills
And will not keep a penny--

I see you, rotted loathsome blight
Your shrivelled soul a nasty sight
My lady's brilliant, blooming, bright--
I see you gain your vile thrills
From quashing one whose shine, whose skills
Trump you, and yours, and many--

I see you, slimy wretched wight,
With petty twists of nonsense trite--
So certain that you're in the right--
But you have picked a foolish fight.
The look you cast my lady fills
me with a rage my wit distills
Into a poison for my quills--
I'll not ask leave of any

Before I pluck your sneering eyes
And slice a mince out of your thighs
Your viscera I'll itemize
Your organs I will organize
Your agonies and shrillest cries
Shall be my sweetest lullabies!
I'll bake you into apple pies
To feed a tiding of magpies
Who'll take to wing and fill the skies
With scorn for you.

It was unwise
To think you safely could despise
My lady.