Secret. Lovers.
Curve of rib.
A cage
she says.
Collar bones,
breasts, sharp,
sudden, amplified
as in a painting.
Waists’ cool,
piercings tug
meeting moment.
A fingernail
traces
a roadwork of white
razor blade
highways on
taut teenage
bicep and forearm.
Not one penetrates.
Much less
painful
than love
she breathes
between lips
and air.