Money does so grow on trees,

The branches that protrude from

the soft underside of a bent knee

The scalloped bark

At the sloping part of the ankle.

He walks down the strip of stage,

A panther’s pounce

Centipedes in suits rub

together their many fingers

And from duplicitous pockets,

throw coins onto the stage

The thigh is a promise to be kept

the back becomes a bow, a half-moon’s

silhouette. The waxing of his hips, a harness

of polished cowhide and steel strapped

to his chest like a bomb

Boys made of champagne and glitter

The underside of his tongue is a carpet of velvet

They cough plumes of confetti. The pelvis torques

and the night funnels into the back of his throat.