For Angelica

Fembot

Her lips are lush and soft and wet and pink.
My tongue explores until it finds some wires.
At such a moment, everyone enquires
‘My darling, what the fuck?’ ‘Not what you think’

she says, ‘not what it looks like.’ But it’s true
she lies a little just to keep me calm
then takes apart a panel in her arm.
Inside there’s lights and dials. A taser too

so she could paralyze me with a pinch
if she should want to. They’re here to observe.
I should have known from the too-perfect curve
of her arched eyebrow. Every single inch

is engineered to please. And so we screw.
She tells me, that for flesh, I’m quite good too.

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About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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One Response to For Angelica

  1. badger says:

    Very nicely done.

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