Do you remember the first piece?
Did it wrap around wrists, a Twist or Curb
hug fingers or hang round your neck holding on
for silver or gold?
Maybe it was gunshot through ear lobes
hot blood rush, diamond studs sit in until
body heals and holes held open stay open
for hoops and dangles
Is it worth your face in gold?
Does he bling too, that black boyfriend?
Is he Bead or Box or Byzantine chain
blazing bronze or phat platinum
Did you two star gaze for long
at rocks and stones and coins
stunned and dazed in all that tomfoolery?
Did you ever put his glitter on
and how long did that ice last
before melting down to a memory?
What would it mean to leave the house naked
no sequinned cloak covering
no shiny ear lobed shimmering's
no solid gold hood hangings
wearing just your skin to hold yourself in?
Cloth does not count, it is matterless–
would you be worth your face without gold?