burlesque noir

as if watching an angel lose its wings
each one torn at the roots
bloody stumps drooling
with the ecstasy of freedom
from the strings attached to flight
no longer beholden to god's bidding
you were free
to be her child once again
and the crowd winced and cheered
as you rode them bare backed
with your grin puncturing through
each needle wound

and the spitting of raw meat
upon the open mouthed faces of the front row seats
while you chewed your way through the seams
sewn by your black gloved executioner
defying her breaking of your will with
the rhythmic slapping at the nubs
she left exposed to our bloodlusting bodies
but it was you who drank the cup
of your own making
while you stood high
on endorphins and whiskey,
and for the moment, high above
your pesky mortality.



wb