Vessel
Seeking escape, I am promiscuous
enduring the man’s hand, touch, tongue -- never uttering a sound.
For him, my body is flawless, my skin incandescent
flushed, warm, alive – as if painted by the master, Rembrandt.
Or perhaps, fashioned by Van Gogh, his vivid colors show
his madness and torment – pummeled upon my torso.
Men, haunted, berserk, dark, without scruples
Devotees of women -- round, soft and supple.
Closing my eyes, opening my being,
like a vessel -- deep, hollow, empty
to hold our shame.
1 comment:
Disturbing, in the very best sense of the work.
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