portion of artwork for Alexandra Isacson's poems

Alexandra Isacson

“Like a whore I unpack my heart with words.”

With stung nipples
I close my legs
to you
like all those
Post Impressionistic whores
who spread their souls
for Gauguin,
van Gogh, and God.
Like a mere transient thought,
I slip away draped in bed sheet
in someone else's dark alley.

You splash me away on canvas
between sips of port.

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