Punishing

So what would it take for me to hide my sex-
        Pin it down beneath the weight of religion,
      tie it down with a rosary,
                gag it with duty.
The promise of death 
         is no deterrent to my quest
      for flesh
        for fluid
       for the knowledge that another human
    wants me folded into his arms
   wants to share with me the treasures of his body.
 If retribution will seek me out for
       the swivel of my hip
         the explosive beat of my heart
            the curiosity of my tongue
        when another man is between my thighs-
                                         between two worlds-
       then I will greet my retribution
    with a punishing kiss and make him a lover as well.        
Believe it or not
       I have the power to redeem myself 
                   By yielding my body
                     To another’s will.
My sensuality is steeped in my blood
       and served piping hot
   to those unafraid to get burned a bit.
The giving and the taking. 
   I suffer and they suffer.
Just a bit.
     Because that is the way love works.
   Isn’t it?
A passionate fight 
     	      is better by far than
a passionless life.
  And pain is a wicked little sprite
     decked out in pigtails and black leather pants.
She comes to nibble at us
     even when we have
	committed no crime.
   Chastity would cut into my skin like a gaping wound,
 would be forced from my sinews by
       the sheer muscle of my spirit,
    flushed from the marrow of my bones.
If it is my lot in life to hurt a bit from time to time      
   then it would please me to sin a bit from time to time
  so at least the lacerations will be deserved
and I’ll have lived a bit from time to time.








  


    

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