27 April 2006

Alice Fulton

[from Alice Fulton's Cascade Experiment]

My Diamond Stud

He’ll be a former cat burglar
because I have baubles
to lose. I’ll know him
by the black
carnation he’s tossing:
heads, he takes me,
stems, the same. Yes,
he’ll be a hitchhiker at this
roller-rink I frequent, my diamond
stud who’ll wheel up shedding
sparks & say “Ecoutez
bé-bé. I’m a member
of a famous folded trapeze
act. My agility is legend, etc.”
keeping his jeweler’s eye on
my gold fillings. He’ll know
what I really want: whipping
me with flowers, his fingers’ grosgrain
sanded smooth, raw
to my every move. For our tryst
we’ll go to travel-folder heaven
& buff-puff each other’s
calluses in valentine tubs.
He’ll swindle the black heart
between my thighs
dress me up in ultra-
suede sheaths, himself
in naugahyde. No,
leather. He’d never
let anything touch him
that wasn’t once alive.

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