He ate her prayers
by a sip of her lace,
but the beauty wore a caution label
of radioactive contamination.
This is why her body glows grotesque
like a serenity candle dripping with other men’s wishes,
floating somewhere lost on the open ocean,
drifting— drifting— drifting— toward the deep dark of knowing.
Somewhere inside,
she tells her secrets to him.
Somewhere unknown in her body,
she keeps a yellow notepad dry beneath pink bed spreads,
but from the ceiling, drip— drip— drip—
and now she has the ink all men need to exercise their talents.
Some will sketch.
Some will write.
Some will dilute her and paint washes from her undulating silhouette.
But the best will do nothing–
and let the drips
become a pool,
become a lake,
become a river,
so she may be carried off to the open ocean
where she may be married to the foolishness of other men’s wishes.

So be careful about licking frosting
from another’s birthday candles.

written on 07/29/2010 by: Matt Kane