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.