Lillies

At 4:30 a.m. you rise move in the arms and legs that trapped you. You sighed affirming the sculptured man and make yourself a bath of dark musk oil Egyptian crystals and Florida water to remove his smell to wash away the glitter to watch the butterflies melt into suds. And the rhinestones fall beneath her buttocks like smooth pebbles in a Missouri creek lay in water. You become yourself, ordinary brown braided woman with big legs and full lips regular. And the ones who fall prey to the dazzle of hips painted with orange blossoms and magnolia scented wrists had wanted no more than to lay between her sparklin thighs. And had planned on leavin before dawn. And you had been so divine devastatingly bizarre the way your mouth fit round. And now you stand a regular colored girl fulla the same malice livid indifference as a sistah worn from supportin a would-be horn player. But then you gather your tinsel and jewels from the tub. And laugh gayly or vengeful you stored your silk roses by your bed. And when you finished writin the account of her exploit in a diary embroidered with lilies and moonstones. You place the rose behind your ear and cried yourself to sleep.