Last Words of a Giantess

I want to look good when I’m dead
but I’m a beardless lady.
No comb, razor, shears,
nor fancy shaving lotion
of witch’s blood
will enhance my beauty.

When you take my head,
smooth my greying whiskers,
know there is more than the hairs
on my chin your blade
will not trim.

As I draw my last breath,
whisper these words into your beard
so well kept it could be a king’s
barbered by the deaths
of many,

know these thin grey straws
like spears of dead men on the wind
will never form a leash
for your hounds
and my head will never sing.

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