The red Dress

In red silk dress

Hair curled

My sex unfurled.

For whom

do I leave my womb

To flash crimson

And high heels?

The turning

Of the wheels.

Toward home.

I remove

My whore’s palette

My spiked shoes.

Black mesh stockings

A soft mound at my feet.

To whom do I admit

Victory or defeat?

Grapher 1984