The Calculation
I lay in your hands
like coins
jiggling before a
fountain toss.
“What is your worth?”
you ask.
Without asking.
You weigh up the risk;
mull me over in your mind.
Extrapolate the terms
for the term of usefulness.
“What is your worth?”
you ask.
Without asking.
Your eyes calculate
the circumference of my waist
the bounce of my breast
the pout of my lip
the thrust of my hip
Calibrate my voice
Weigh up your choice
For there are suitable dimensions –
one must be sure.
“What is your worth?”
I wish you’d asked me
asking also.
I could have reciprocated
this mental melee;
measured your manliness
deconstructed your youness.
I could have righted your formula
for wear and tear –
incorporated Newton’s clause
for relativity of ownership.
“What is your worth?”
you ask,
in breathy whispers.
I can barely make it out
thus I carry on
shrug it off
for you would have asked.
And time moves on
Like a season
Like a snail
Like something slow and natural
And it moves in
and it moves through
and between
the me and you.
And I try to recall
that whisper.
“What is your worth?”
you ask me
so finally.
But I do not grasp
the accumulation of this question
the anguish it’s piled
the anger it’s amassed
I do not see
the mechanics behind the math
or the permanent berth
where it’s docked for years
I do not understand
the infinity of the solution
or the ever-changing variables
which infest your weary mind.
“What is your worth?”
Had you but asked me first
Granted me insult
Homoured me with worthlessness
Given me the freeing power –
of derision under your division
And if asking then
I’d have have answer, once only;
that the question
makes me worth the more.
“What is your worth?”
Beg – ask no more.
Please, ask no more.
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