Beatrice: Canto II

Why can’t you put me in Hell!
Fire licking at my thighs would be much sexier
than the book you’ve locked me in.
Who even reads it?
Paradise bores me and everyone else.
There has to be a better way
to work through your mid-life crisis.
You could’ve asked for my number
or a pair of my panties.
Are you afraid of a woman
with a pulse included?
Give me some sins to commit,
some circles to run around,
some blood to complement my lipstick.
Make me human again, poet.
Return to me my menstrual cycle,
my nose picking, my farts.
Return to me my aborted fetus,
my leather fetish, my debt.
I do not intervene on behalf of lost causes,
still life portraits of would-be men.
Give me multiple orgasms,
let’s fuck on top of your manuscripts.
I want my own lake of ice.
Are you still hard for me?