Head for the Door
Oral sex and cigarettes,
in threadbare kindled corsets.
Trading laces in a red lit bizarre,
you mend your teddy with rusty wire barbed.
Are your goods morning market fresh?
A barter, for nothing less than flesh.
Primal cut?
Pickled ligaments?
Aged carcass?
And in that moment I am pleased,
you walk through the door.
Then those memories dissipate,
making room for more,
taking in the violence,
and the show,
down to the floor.
(2013)
