This one goes out to Santana Lopez and Ann Taylor.
Mannekenlove
Don’t be cold.
Exhibition, let’s do this
in the Hollywood lights behind
the plate window.
Your pale collarbone scraped bare
by my chalky teeth.
I unlock your white skinny jeans
from behind, wrench them off
over a table, over
your high heels.
You curve like a woman but hard,
what are you.
No point of entry, I canvass
each crack, sever
your hand at the wrist
and take.
My stone fashionista, you’re not much
to hold so I dress you like a toddler
and leave,
plaster dust in my hair.