I want to slice through my belly
and rip out the fat,
Become less in myself and more
a striking whore
to the temple of roses
hidden beneath my skin.
Come kiss my crippled breasts
and count each rib as if
this cage held piano keys;
our music could be perfect:
semi-quavers of lust spilling forth
from maestro fingertips.
Come tattoo your foreign land upon me.
Just close your eyes and imagine
silk instead of hair.
Can you feel the surrender?
Dance closer, before the flame
extinguishes under the wait.