Va', Tosca
Given the many threats I have made against God,
given my forgetfulness of God,
given my sniveling prayers,
given that Tosca, that saintly hussy
who dwells in my head, given I have
created her from the whole cloth of my sacred,
scared and scarred ego; that Scarpio
riddled id of mine, prone as it is to dark corners,
and blood-red sunsets.
Given that she loves me in all the secret ways
I can imagine, given all this,
I am a child before her,
and although the Argentine tango
was made for sex,
we dance it more naked then any flesh
by the light of a bone-deep cellular glow,
and always she whispers into my ear:
‘please don’t let me make you -
forget God’.
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