lethe
adapted from Les Fleurs du Mal by Charles Baudelaire
I bare my bones for your protection,
you prowl down the hall, my lion,
let me lie down with you,
one touch is not enough of the scion
I want to feel the starch of your collar
breathe with my face pressed to your chest
taste on your fingertips all the paper
you copy and complete and codify
you give me sleep but I always awake,
your doubts haunt the space behind my eyes
I would kiss each frown line
pull your shadow over my flaws like fur
I can’t bury this compulsion
but you could bury me,
perform your last rites over my body
day and night until I am reborn
it is my fate to dance with obsession,
genetic heretic in your office and
on your mind, I can feel it in your eyes
the glutton’s gleam before you say my name
your poisons filled the spaces you would not
stifling spells spliced with love potions
I can’t breathe when you touch me
as you place the list of punishments in my palm.
Monica Deck is an author, recurve archer, and MFA candidate. Poetry is her first love and Baudelaire her first fascination. She lives in the American Midwest with two other humans and a handful of cats.
