A Riddle by Kristin Garth

It did not fit into her shrunken house;
its ribcage flanked the casing of her door.
Decapitated her unsuspecting spouse 
though broad shoulders prevented more 
bodily intrusion past the entryway
where fangs anticipate her on the floor.
What other mortal morsels stairs convey 
like the skull it peeled away before?
The descendent still has its eyeballs, if bleary
and half-closed. Salivates upon her shadow 
though she hesitates as if she knows the 
brutality awaiting her own doe 
eyes she does not dare to move or blink.
Which will starve to death? Neither likes to think. 

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