Diana and Actaeon
by thea hatton
How likely the story
the stink of you rustling the leaves
of the bush where you lay hidden
crouched by the pool fucking peeping tom
so confident in your concealment
How easy to say you were only out hunting
you will claim you just stumbled across me
to the soldiers that wait for you
in my uncle’s caverns
And did you hear she was naked? you will ask
the Virgin-whore was begging for it
How tempting to rip you apart
to plant an arrow in
your foot see you squirm when you realise you
cannot run ask you Did the other girls know how to
skin a boar?
but you’ve heard I assume that the gods love their
irony
besides I want to see what those legs can
do
So instead of flaying you here
I will take the deer skin that you carry
around your shoulders to call yourself a hunter
and I will stitch you inside
what a fine stag you make
I will whisper in your ear before pricking your rump
with a slender knife
savour your guttural cry as you trail blood
into the forest
*
Can you hear your hounds?
Pick up the pace Actaeon you trained them well
and they haven’t fed in a day you above all should know what
hungry dogs will do
just to get a taste of meat
Don’t falter now
it isn’t time yet you still have to try to beg
and find your tongue lacking I want your
prayer as a heavy panting
Let’s find out if deer can cry
if they can cry and run at the same time
through the tears you never even see the root that causes
you to trip your shin to splinter
Let me watch now
your turn to hear the leaves rustling
smell the stink of beasts out of sight
feel their eyes
the precursors of
mouths
of
tongues
and of
teeth
Thea Hatton (she/they) is a trans-feminine, nonbinary poet based in Birmingham. She was a member of the University of Birmingham's winning team at Unislam 2022. Her work explores trans joy, transformation, and love for friends, and has previously been published with The Madrigal and Death's Dormant Daughter. You can follow them at @_Hatton_ on Twitter.
