Lure

I love the way you move like an angler fish

Proclaiming light in assist of predation

*

Spurious but nonsensical

I watch you scrap acrylic paint

From beneath your fingernails

There is something incapacitating

About your art, the way it arrests

The larynx and by default expression

*

There are ten steps from your door to mine

I wear them into my soles daily

You perpetuate my experience of humiliation

By always keeping your door ajar

*

I’ve glimpsed your heart red and buoyant

Like a semi-submerged apple

In an antiquated game

To taste your flesh would be preemptive

Of murder but whose I am not sure

*

You consume without love

Only those whom you can mesmerize.

There’s too much effort in nonchalance

So you wait, nudging my palate

With a sweetness that is not entirely synthetic

Given your avaricious attention to detail

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