I'll sleep upon your canvas
like you slept upon my mattress
in the dim august dawn,
when you lay
hunched up
against my pillow
and woke to smear
over every crevice
every pore-
the woman's way to war-
but you're special...
so work your counter, sweetheart
curve your lip
and don't worry,
whores don't wear their names
pinned to their chest
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