Selfish Portrait

Yes, I am staring down
the mascara bubbling like tar
the thick lipstick
split open by your breakneck voice—
I want to hear you breathe

or chew that late-night TV dinner:
Buffy with a side of Vampires
(your favorite) Tonight I caress your neck, glance
at your back arched
across the mattress. We are finally connected

by the brush of knees, graze of toes
Other poses include
‘Figures with Folded Arms Looking Away’
‘Bedroom with Two Young Strangers’
‘Two Strangers with One Laptop’
(never sharing) A study
in remoteness, a series of hours
like identical white canvasses
we saw at MOMA and didn’t understand

What you want is this,
your vision Xed by eye-liner
my voice excised from your lips’ insides
until our bodies’ oils seep
into Dasani bottles, 99-cent cans of tea
What you want is this

push into a skin without angles, me
marionetteing your murmur
to a doll-perfect smile (say cheese!)
your trembling teeth
your tensed face turned sharply wall-ward
as if my eyes could stare you into stone