And a modern Bellerophon said to the Chimera
—
I’ve sensed danger
in your pastel colored nails
and in your paisley patterned scarfs.
—
A bifid rough-tongued fascination
cold as the silver rings on your hands.
—
A great hunger behind your eyes
that neither ring gag nor cuff
could satisfy.
—
Something feline
that your plated skirts
can’t hide.
—
A need to crawl with your ass up
and stab.
—
A trance of running mascara
and torn bras.
—
The dangerous yearning to be told,
with a firm hand,
how to love.
