Praying Naked
I’ve never let a man love me
without feeling very Mary Magdalene about it.
Just the other night I was dancing with a friend
of a friend & he got handsy & I got servant-minded
of a friend & he got handsy & I got servant-minded
letting him move his grip from my waist to my hips
& lower, while a Motown bass boomed through the opaque
& lower, while a Motown bass boomed through the opaque
& sweaty darkness. It wasn’t guilt I felt
when I decided I was obliged to let him
when I decided I was obliged to let him
explore the finer points of my swaying
body. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe
body. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe
it was my own desire to be desired, since, if a man
wants me, I know I have at least a little worth left.
wants me, I know I have at least a little worth left.
