Lolita and Bonnie

by Kait McIntyre

When the gold gets in
your eyes, hearing
wedding bands crack
that left third
knuckle swallowing
in grey linen
pocket dark,

Brush and swivel
your ankle over his
argyle. Leather
covered Benjamins whispering
like moss under your fingertips.

With tape binding
my chest and plastic
protruding from my crotch, I am
the prodigal son. In a cocktail dress,
I am the way-
ward daughter.

But rolling in
my father’s cash in your bed
I am nothing
but human and fevered
from your touch.