Monday 11 April 2011

pusillanimity's twin

I had been sleeping with butterflies
until bees sprung up
form between my petals
and stung you on the mouth.
Suede lust,
animal skin holds its scent,
life captured
as its ripped from a carcass,
snared in a man trap

It was a man.

He was a man before
we anchored him to wooden stakes
through his limbs,
I tied the ropes myself
until my hands bleed,
I liked the calluses,
chewed the skin
to keep the sores open

I wear red ribbons in my hair
they dance on a breeze,
conjured up by our cajoling -
howling and foot stamping
under the gaze
of a waning autumnal sun.

Lucky me,
I found my revolution
hidden beneath my womanhood,
under my left breast
before I removed it,
turning black in the sun.

But still she didn't come
to stand beside me.

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