charmer sell
My back curves; I bend
and whip myself up and around
and land upright, poised
on my toes, stepping on yours.
This time is for me; I won't
fellate that ego of yours
(though I do enjoy it
and so do you till I bite)
I am, this time, impersonal
as thunder or tsunamis or time
and with as much cause.
So you see a mask; pity
that the face of power is seen
as assumed rather than revealed.
I whisper through souls
like swords though abdomens.
I spring again; light
flares where I have gone,
darkness trickling after.
1995