It is a surprise to be desired.
I had never understood or expected beauty, so,
now I have blossomed sleek and excessive
like an orchid’s corolla,
I take what others give to me
and ruined men fall from my hands like ripe fruit
to lie rotting on the ground.
Sex is ceremony, a ritual
of feigned innocence, and earnestness.
I clear myself with water, rub oil into skin.
Quiet eyes watch men twist and struggle
at the sight of limbs to crack open
so slim and smooth.
Pleasure is radical, a rebellion.
They snatch for caresses like beggars
rubbing buttercups into open wounds to make them blister.
They are offered outlines ‘til I am teased open
like tulips at sunrise.
Savour that pain.
Understand that I am willing to suffer for you,
Lines in italics are paraphrased from Emilé Zola’s ‘Nana’
Epoch for One
Lost girl, naïveté is not your friend.
He's fickle, treacherous to the end.
Lost girl, no mirror can reflect you here.
From two worlds, you belong to none, my dear.
Lost girl, leave the wild men alone, I ask.
They can't see through your changing mask.
Poor girl, time does not belong to you,
To one who hates the old, and fears the new.
My girl, who wants to chase Her smile,
She'll leave you in a little while.
Please, girl, accept the fact, it can't be done.
Just live right now, in your epoch for one.