Interrogations (Part 2)

Questions of Ownership

The Interrogation begins
no harsh lights
no straps
or ropes to tie her tiny frame
to a solid surface
meant to become
the pushing point
and I the czar of her behavior.

There will be no slobbering
bells or gagging balls
no stretched limbs
or fractured hands by mistake.

Her eyeliner will not bleed
a host of horrors
overwrought
and beacons baked and broken
as her will becomes
the milky floret
of my crushing imagination.

I will ask
just once.

Her kaleidoscopic
capaciousness
will simply be
a rendering mist
between the salad
and the sorbet,
a lilting list,
her many scented
culpabilities.

Her cleansed palate
refreshed and vibrant
now is free to taste
the aged brew
a canticle of harmonies
the chancing melody
of a fallow field
imbued with youth
and wisdom.

It is her soul
that must recount
the song
of her arrival
from the distant soil,
and I
the listener
of her tale,
the song
of her Arrival.

And then
she will be mine.

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