Did you know God took away
nine-tenths of women’s love
so they would not eat their babies?
You know why: such cute little seraphim legs,
heads soft on lips, liquid nowhere eyes.
The trouble for Lilith was
God didn’t take it from her—
for the care of the babies you understand.
She was such a magnificent protectress
a she-wolf at the den door.
It was ok when she had someone to hate,
but once the danger was over, oh those babies,
how they smelt with their milk breath,
their sugar-coated plump little hands,
their firm peachy bottoms.
She got the taste for it;
one does they say.
And after her ardent attentions,
there wasn’t much left:
few bones, some gristly ears.