"Touch Me"
c.2000, Miriam M. Wynnyour hand
on my belly
the look you give me
surly and hungry
you look about to eat me
molest me
a dirty old man with sneering lips.you want me to be
your little girlpale and vampiric you want to drink
from me, an innocent at your side,
my head bowed, ever beneath yours.but I am interested in your offer,
forbidden
as it is--your hand
presses where a child would be
and I am silent.in my ear your genteel voice
violates me persistently, ingeniously
a man of words you are busy
with manipulating me,
your hand, still, on my belly.you apply a pressure there--
I blink.
breath comes to me slowly
as if I have forgotten
and you keep talking, talking--a litany of lust,
I, your little girl--
touch me, touch me--my mouth lifted to yours
my hand grasping my belly
your pale and beautiful fingers
digging gently into cloth and flesh
you look dark
you look evil
you look brilliant and rash.and I know that I seem gullible
but none of that really matters
touch me, touch me--I am tired of waiting,
you're driving me mad with all this talking--I will be your little girl
if you would just
touch me.