An Exhaling Introvert

Counts backwards
till she can’t breathe. She pretends
a message will appear 

at zero
on a screen addressed to her
from you. A different kind 

of marring,
you’ll be asking for it.
Hard on the lips, 

her pressure increases
as your resistance
goes down. Exaltation.

Repainting the Mouth

She is certain her mouth,
painted cerise,
will not wear away
too soon. She may 

become all lips
without limbs, without
a neck, without a torso.
She would still dip 

this color, with certainty,
to her brush. 

Long before
day one
there was
this painted mouth: 

Lipstick in hand,
she drew her mouth
perfectly without looking.
Later, watching herself 

be an artist,
her lips canvas,
she drew a cinnabar moth,
not a kiss.