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.