Your idea of love

Your idea of love—
red giant stars
a globular cluster 
tattooed on my chest with a fork
tines bent into fishhooks
you cast with no art

Your idea of love—
dirty dishes
me on the dining room table
you with pliers
he loves me, he loves me not
my teeth ring as they land in a pot
I hate you, I hate you
not part of the game

Your idea of love—
my toothless mouth
cradled in your arms
shards of glass from our portrait
worked into raw sockets
twisting and turning
if you love me you’d kiss me
that’s a nice boy
your knee in my jaw

Your idea of love—
me naked
in a stained porcelain tub
filled with gasoline
I know how you hate to waste it, dear
your face glowing in match-light
a cigarette hangs from your lips
you know I don’t smoke
the match falls from your fingers
onto the floor
don’t think I’d let you off so easy
that's not my idea of love