Mistress

Femme fatale, femme,
Where do you go when it gets dark?
Do you gather more neurotoxins for my sleep?
Speak to me through so many proxies?
Your voice is disembodied-
A spirit dressed in flesh dressed
in foreskin.
Where goes your electra complex at night…?
You can be seen through the windows
Wearing the street (its litter, its oil)
Clad in a quasi-hurricane
The hailstorm has lost its eggs
They clatter on the asphalt, the roof
A language without a word for restoration.
Your smoke and ember can be seen against
The leafless maples;
You tell yourself it is a star of its own
You turn into a giant rock that spins
No matter how you turn you can’t leave
Your own pull
Femme fatale, femme,
Where do you go when it gets dark,
When there is no more room for sleep?