His heart is a carny barker.
His skin, a bullhorn
gathering the men for miles.

I am a circus of a woman.
I light up. I smile. I let them
slide their mouths over
my bottleneck and the length
of my lashes while he bellows.

I love this man who kisses me
greasy, wears stripes
like a popcorn box, the men
in line with tokens for teeth.

I am every gaffed game. Every
one of them is waiting to play. My hope,
the reddest balloon. I’ve handed
the man I love a rope of my best
veins. I let him open me.

He wrangles my legs into a rope
ladder. I twist and flip
while he reaches to ring my bell.
I am a shiny thing, I am
a ring toss, a game of chance.

I am not done until the carny puts his cane away.

I am not done until the lights have burnt out and the dark
bleeds itself
towards
tomorrow