Plastic Madonnas

Nice whip santa gave you
for christmas
I haven’t felt snow as soft
as those black thongs
that never touched my flesh

the grace of yr fingertips
smiling beside the bed
a room
so small in its images
even the mirror grew pale
contemplating our desires

a willing slave
someone to love at a leather distance
hard entry into the promised land
between yr buttocks & my obsessions

nice whip
nice tarot deck sealed against disaster
medieval like the plague that betrayed us

strains of compassion
yr face
transparent in a light without benefit of windows
disguised, ever so thinly, as a common proposition

life pure & simple
freedom to take the next shot
and not have it kill you

but that small room
never grew big enough
even for that

already in january
the geldersekade looks an old year
minus yr shock of hair like mine
            when i first came
            not to you but to amsterdam
standing in the red night waiting for trouble

plastic madonnas weep water from lourdes
a vigil of sacrifice for both our souls

if nothing else
at least the goddess of wisdom
still makes a few whores as tender as you were.


Photo of Elisabeth Lemoine taken in 1980

Elisabeth Lemoine (d. 11 January 1981)