yours.

i gave him
my backside, on a silver platter
‘my ass is yours’ i wrote
honestly.

i gave him
my heart
he gave me
a chopstick
and a welding rod.
Fair exchange.

for his birthday i set a treasure hunt that led to my underwear drawer.
i gave him a marble, too.
and we ate birthday cake with church candles in the middle.
birthday boy- now there s a man who doesnt take his arsenic well.

thump.

you gave me
an ancient crystal
and didnt haggle about the price.
i offered you another marble.
refused.
i gave the crystal back.
But i want you – in my bed
i want to do unspeakable things to you
i do
but dont ask for my heart
my head. dont try to
learn me. it dont do it for me baby.
Martha Cannery is not my maiden name.

if only life were as simple as taking your clothes off.

Oh Lucifer and lacy fire do your thing and blow flames on this pyre.
damaged goods i admit but
heres the wood and theres the spark.
put the two together and watch the chemistry unfold.
spontaneous combustion, creation, friction and fly.
i dont want to repent.
i dont want to release these binds round my arms because
you’ve convinced me. i am a danger to society.
save yourself. have a good time.
if only i could discover something true, be like
asaph hall when he found the two
satellite moons of mars
in 1877.

if you let me be your geisha
i d kneel from behind you
on my tatami mat
feed you tea and cherries when you werent looking
scatter petals by your lotus feet.

let me.

But if you want to call me a witch i will burn for you.
A bed lined with jelignite and
I can see your eyes