I’ll touch the clear, white alabaster belly with all the tenderness my feral and fierce body can muster.
I’m too old and sensitive to miss the dance
with the bitter hag
who drags me by the head
to the slab.
Once more— Oh, I’ll sing
a sweet song, a death
lullaby as I drop the hoods of my eyes
and reach for the jasmine lilt
weeping through the caverns of my
memory.