The Beautiful Nevers

Sunday laughed at my body,

Turned its back and was rude,

Like elderly handwriting,

Like unknowing cleavage,

Like broken baguette,

Like sampling perfume,

Like sailor salted hair,

Like newsprint soft pink,

Like spilled gasoline,

It wants only you,

X

So I kissed its mirror,

Ran a finger round its rim,

Brushed its fine hair,

Put money in its collection tray,

Applauded its yellow,

Put on my bra,

Asked Sunday to love you,

If it can’t love me this way.