Salome

doper than the ring
around a jazz drummers nostril
i'm not sure
how the sickness became the cure
but something about the insurrection
is feeling a heck of a lot like
a love song

it must be in how she moves

delicate
as a porcelain pelican
plucking fish
for the fire
but then again

her step
is a combustion
too subtle to erupt

there is an earthquake
beneath her eyelids
her hips can remove the I-beams
from the timeline
and before her smile steals
the parting of her lips

it's over

the seduction of destruction