you knew
what you were
doing
with all that
slinking around
in
lingerie and
leather
it didn’t matter
to you
that I was
only
ten

you kissed
my childlike eyes
with an
open mouth
until I adjusted
to the
light in the
cave
of your
tongue and
teeth and
lips
you hot, ****
handgun

in high-heels
you were
dancing
on a primetime
table
hammer-cocked
back
turned sideways
for show

commercial
breaks were
the 75 cent
bathroom
vending-machine
condoms
that couldn’t
stop
anything

are you as
proud of
my glorious
fist-fights
as you are of
how
good you
look
with the right
lighting?

my gaze is
handcuffed
to the bedpost
of death
and light-
hearted
****** mysteries

because it’s
just
make
believe
so what, if
it is pretty
violent
after all?
it is
pretty
it is
violent

sure, I’ll
grow
out of it
or get
over it
if I don’t
grow
into it
or get
under it

like I got
under your
sheets
“all the better
to snipe you
with, my dear”

and
I haven’t felt
any of it