If the sun and the moon were
weed and wine, she'd staggered inside
a lovely eclipse.
The mouths in her eyes dropped like birds
out of flight as the sky blushed.
The air grew warm.
They want to eat her like a meal.
Her body is a diamond that they covet
like sleep. Killer black and soft lilac
(the most expensive thing she ever stole)
but golden.
In the car, two long fingers dig graves
in the back of her left knee.
She is clammy and excitable,
sleepy and sure.
Cotton, lipstick,
curls, languid,
tobacco, innuendo. Coiled
like a kitten on the cushions,
eyelashes granite and breath like marble;
out like an epiphany.
Awaken standing, the world turned upright.
Hazy, two strong arms to steady,
Let's get you to bed, darling.
Somewhere there is tension, palpable,
scratchy. She senses a glare.
It doesn't catch, however.
Slides off; soaking into the carpet,
hissing with steam.
Some time later,
skins are shed
They build fires with their hips,
and don't speak of it in the morning.