Soul Stripper
What is the source of violence?
The body or the soul?
How do we define movement?
By muscle or by skeleton?
There is a metal pole jammed through us.
The central, moral pole
Around it, spirals our soul.
Souls are pole dancers.
Souls are sexy.
Both of us are metal poles.
We often forget the separation of body and soul.
Just because I move, doesn’t mean my soul does
Just because he touches, doesn’t mean his love
Caresses.
His soul never reached his lips in that kiss
But his body was warm, blood red
Like my lips.
“What are you thinking about?” his mouth asks
“What are you thinking about?” his body asks
“What are you thinking about?” his soul asks
His soul asks.
His soul intertwines with his central pole
The pole that aligns with our hands when we pray.
I am his temporary religion.
The pole through his body, his core
Is angled around mine.
We are two pieces of bent, metal angles
On a foreign couch
Our entire being
But, I am the only body,
Lined with soul.
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