'I never deal in transformations,'
Said a little sorceress to me,
'For they are not honest.'
And yet you paint your eyes,
Your lips and your nails,
All sparkling with silver glitter.
You become a spinning angel,
Beneath thrumming disco lights.
And the hum from the speakers
Ripples up our crooked spines
Causing our gums and ribs to vibrate.
I can still feel the heat of your breath,
A sweet burst of cleansing flame.
As you stood up on the cushions
Of your emerald-encrusted throne
And sank your teeth into my tongue.
So here is my promise to you, S..:
I will slay that old and wicked witch
Always pointing with her bony fingers
At all those things you wish to hide.
Every secret is safe here with me,
Every single tear you weep
Becomes a crystal shard
Which slices through my pillows
And stains our bed with blood.
Here are your riches of content.
Here is the moonlight on your back.
Here is the life we left behind.
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