All in fright, the Harpy
looked sharp
in standing ovation
devoured the rudiments of her own wings
and hightailed from the escarp.

Tall tale!
On no account
is she to forget to harp
only to blunt those knives
of her own headhunt
- tattled the sentry.
If all else fails, worrywart,
you’re even welcome
to drag along, eat alive in the scene
that backstage, mournful woman.
The royal pardon
doesn’t run in your family.
Harden the deifier!