if you want me, I will hold you up as the story you are:
complex, perverse, emotional, all kinds of greed--
as men are. I will hold you fast and know you
and make a present of my body. I will give you grounding
and make gravity for your soul. I will give you vinegar and wine,
I will lay you down at night and taste the journey of you
in my mouth, chin wiped clean. for you I would:
a small mixed baby, fingers clenched around my ribs, for him
too I agree to be broken. I will shed
skin like an old rind, my fire an unending burn
to slough off the pale in place of red.
I will give you my body as a trophy, mounted,
stuffed and burned clean, bright green eyes caught cold
(marbles in your palm, my eyes and my breasts)
that you can keep me-- I assume I am a prize, hubris!-- but
you will win me, either way. my blood is my charm
and I press it on you for answers, for solidarity.