shadow tamer

i'd not want his power; his hands full of broken things -
yet still the king has among his treasures, something of me -
of his body taken to mine and made new - his flesh
transmuted; his shape in subtle shift so easy, tho'
my inheritance of his masculinity is brief.
a scent and taste so different than my own.
tomorrow he will look at me and catch
not even a visual innuendo that part of him is
mine now. transformed. i have softened
his angles thru my form and when i try,
i can almost still taste him
drunken on my memories of wine.

- somewhere between greed and reverence,
between love and terror, between
lust and child-like rapture, i taste the predator.
a musk sweet wash across my gentle;
its hunger passing over my tongue.

the lion tamer with his head set deep
past teeth and pressing down
the back of my throat. i am scavenged
by questions - who's dominant when dominance is granted and
infused by submission?

my form my intent my desire; untitled.
a first tremble; too young to understand
- the taste of a coin under my tongue - forbidden -
biting back where i might bite -
the infinite flavor of anonymous touch and
barter and acquisition - power again and again,
power is rarely thoughtful.
peace for a moment's assistance; i felt
the wide wants of language rising from
my slick belly, spinning up the staircase of
my backbone to tangle through
my throat and leave me
silent.

my form cast by my shadow. inverted.
i have licked the color blue
and know it now as a flavor -
the taste of my own skin, my fingers
ever returning to my lips to earn or
to endeavor; to claim the
distinctive hallmarks of being a woman
that i, at any given moment might otherwise deny.