Fisherman's War Paint

Right hand on left flank
and the inverse correct--
This is what chromosomes
dealt were predestined.
Face in a pillow
almost forget.
Saint candles burning
straight down like a fuse.
Moans turn to whimpers
and back into moans.
Offer a towel, a cold glass of water.
They know not to call.
They know they've been used
led like white livestock
up three flights to slaughter.
It helps with the yearning
the passing of time.
She'll leave in the morning
with clothes from the floor.
It's hard to think twice
once giving the lines.
She came like a lady.
She'll leave a bit sore.
Fisherman's war paint
misanthrope's fuel
lush's reminder
that Christ drank the grape.
The love's on the mattress.
The heat's in the tools.
You may never find her
at this cyclic rate.