"DEBUT AUNT"

French doors hide holy whores
clammy hands hold pastel pearls
princess phone,
but prince ain’t home
curdled cries in the cream
tears in the milk
a two-faced bouillabaise
ladled on a crushed kerchief

Catcalls at the dance hall
back buried in the wall
like a page-pressed petal
waiting for a wave
the hand grazed twelve
like a watch wound with wind
sent away in a hansom
too ripe for a ransom

tickled white to red
wet grape on the gums
her eyes sin come up quick
like a lantern swelled and pricked
spilt oblivion on the road
too slick to keep steady
careening and caroming
like passed-off partners
exchanging this world for another.