The Calculation

I lay in your hands like coins jiggling before a fountain toss. “What is your worth?” you ask. Without asking. You weigh up the risk; mull me over in your mind. Extrapolate the terms for the term of usefulness. “What is your worth?” you ask. Without asking. Your eyes calculate the circumference of my waist the bounce of my breast the pout of my lip the thrust of my hip Calibrate my voice Weigh up your choice For there are suitable dimensions – one must be sure. “What is your worth?” I wish you’d asked me asking also. I could have reciprocated this mental melee; measured your manliness deconstructed your youness. I could have righted your formula for wear and tear – incorporated Newton’s clause for relativity of ownership. “What is your worth?” you ask, in breathy whispers. I can barely make it out thus I carry on shrug it off for you would have asked. And time moves on Like a season Like a snail Like something slow and natural And it moves in and it moves through and between the me and you. And I try to recall that whisper. “What is your worth?” you ask me so finally. But I do not grasp the accumulation of this question the anguish it’s piled the anger it’s amassed I do not see the mechanics behind the math or the permanent berth where it’s docked for years I do not understand the infinity of the solution or the ever-changing variables which infest your weary mind. “What is your worth?” Had you but asked me first Granted me insult Homoured me with worthlessness Given me the freeing power – of derision under your division And if asking then I’d have have answer, once only; that the question makes me worth the more. “What is your worth?” Beg – ask no more. Please, ask no more.