YOU’VE COME UNDONE

There's a bar top 

where my feet danced

and vats of vodka

that my throat drank

and tons of men

my hips danced

against

and the cool devilish

calling of a fallen

world in the

crooks of my elbows 

and swing of my hips

and never a day 

goes by that I 

don't think about

the vodka,

the dancing,

the sweet smell

of smoke entering 

a soul,

but that's only

because I'm human.

That's only because my

eyes see only

what's in front of me

and not the quiet

God-like pull

numbing the canvas,

wiping it clean.