Friday, March 8, 2013

Poem: Hetaera

Recently published in Danse Macabre Magaine.





it was necessary to
kept twisting, a painful
incessant slip.
she had to get free of
the jelly rolls of men
who defined what
she lived for,
what she would
have to need or try.
there were already
sacrifices of silence,
lubricious on the altar
of her cut/e heart.
the chest of any kingpin
pressed her ear like a wall,
fraudulent coos
and debauched loves.
it was necessary
to flee the grizzled grip,
to abjure the click-lock
of diamond circlets.
to sexually abdicate.
no trysts in chateaux
of complex elegant sin.
no more mornings
on blue horizons
of imprisoning yachts;
or high above the scurry
of everyone else’s night.
she wasn’t downing again,
or sinking on a lap
during ascent. she wouldn’t
pretend angelic
in the belly of a monster
in the sky.


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