Rosemary’s Lure Quartet

Rosemary’s Ruin

Part IV: Kill
Rosemary’s Ruin
Rosemary, Rosemary, so sly and contrary,
How your garden so wickedly blooms,
With tendrils of green, I tend every row,
My sundress, transparent for show.

The squash bows low when kissed by my glow,
My secret spills soft in the soil’s embrace.
My web hums with glee, as you bend and plea,
You peer through the light, at the thief in plain sight,
Your mouth craving more than a taste.

Work my soft earth, I purr with a smirk,
No pardon’s yours—sampling fruit I bestow.
My web snares your will, your lust to fulfill,
If you step past my gate, you're tempting your fate,
Sip my nectar where my wild river flows.

Tomorrow I’ll shed this delicate thread,
I’ll be bare in my verdant domain,
Kneel in my dirt, stripped, witched, and alert,
Planting seed in my sweet, savage reign.

But you’ll linger too long, my suitor, my song,
In the web where my shadow repairs,
For my grace hides a widow’s embrace —
No man leaves my garden who dares sew his wares.
© Noisy Wren ’25

Prose: Widow's Feast
Rosemary's tits crush your trembling stare, her hips grind your will to a pulp laid bare.
Her fountain's an abyss, dripping death's prayer, she mounts, she kills, and you rot in her lair.