Kraken

He didn't know what on earth to tell her –

something along the lines of c'est la vie,

that there is prestige in being a bride,

that she need not the fate of boys envy.

Some girls are born without any favour,

some women are sold into slavery,

she should feel lucky, not feel mortified:

tonight at last she'll be worth each penny

her folk saved for her, for land is silver.

She should see too the fate of the slutty,

she should ask her folk: there's nowhere to hide,

and less favoured than her have no dowry.

He'd seen men swap coins like a connoisseur

for whores for no one likes an amputee –

no woman was by nature dignified –

she ought therefore to take marriage gently,

she ought to see it as a life-saver,

life here for eight-year-olds can be shitty.

Besides, it wasn't for her to decide.

Tonight, she'd no choice but to be ready.