Commerce

She asked for it, didn't she,
this long day's pirouette into—
so agile, a dream's cat-footed flight.

Clutching the fire pole,
she could arch
and all but touch the sole
of one raised foot to her head—
a trembling moment's grace
before the splayed offering.

Now, walks unbeautied into night,
makeup, makeup burning bright.
No, not tigress eyes:
a rabbit's
forced wide and tearless.

Still she can smile as if she was dancing,
and you don't have to lie to her,
or think to bring a knife.
Her dealer has her at knife point, for you:
her grocer, her landlord, her child
her own bewildered self
unraised to any higher pas de deux—
she always knew.

But, ask a thousand:
"What do you want to be?"

A heart whose love is pure,
she looks at you through rabbit eyes
framed in painted symmetry,
wearing a smile like a G string,
and wonders if she should ask for less.