The gods decreed
that the cupids of the world
would no longer meddle in the love of humans.
It was the age of consent
and love would be agreed to by interested parties.
The cupids went to other trades.
Not Cave Cupid;
he hid.
Love-binding unsuited parties was his bliss.
Their fights—
music to his pointed ears.
He lies in wait for unsuspecting victims.
When his poisoned arrow strikes,
he laughs his maniacal pencil sharpener laugh,
his jagged teeth chattering.
Beware.
Cave Cupid is a hunter of us all.