I
The client fights his gag begs me to stop.
He’s forgotten his word the one he chose.
I never had a word. His agony blooms & sweetens
like a four o’clock flower. Another afternoon of violence
more cries of never-enough.
II
The tree outside my window leans left, shaped
by the wind of a ruined city. I lie flat on my bed,
a paper doll crafted by others. But now my body is my own,
I can do whatever I like with it.
III
On stage I bare my breasts, surf the crowd, they tear my dress
& bruise my legs. After the show, I lean on his shoulder
we share cold beer & cigarettes. He touches my cheek & reminds me
of how tender hands can be.
Elizabeth Mercurio earned an MFA in poetry from The Solstice Low-Residency Program of Pine Manor College. Her work has appeared in Third Point Press, Philadelphia Stories, The Skinny Poetry Journal, The Literary Nest, Fledgling Rag, Martin Lake Journal, Lily Poetry Review, The American Journal of Poetry, Anti Heroin Chic, Ample Remains, The Wild Word, and Thimble Magazine. She was nominated for a Best of the Net nomination and was the 2016 recipient of The Sharon Olds Fellowship for Poetry. Her chapbook, Doll is currently available from Lily Poetry Review Books.
