soldier, vandalized

this afternoon reveals me
as a soldier in the seventh regiment
of sex, adorned with red ribbons
on my back and neck and shoulders
and purpled glowing epaulets realized
on both shoulders in sharp relief–

medals to mashochism gleam
over the glowing white ruffle of my collar,
ringing the coffee brown of my skin
in blackish impressions of angry teeth
and sweet lips,
sweat stains and skin beneath my nails
in the shower each afternoon
(one sleeps rather late
after fighting these battles).

in the midday blue of our room
where currently we have called an armistice,
smoke-shaded light seeping through heavy drapes
to decorate the bed in weak summer hues
outlines the sleeping figure of my lover,
mouth open (those lethal teeth so harmlessly latent now)
and dreaming of god knows what

as i slip away to scribble yet another exhibition
of his brutality, of his fervor–
to spray more graphic graffiti
onto the museum walls of my mind.

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