What a piece of work is a

For two weeks
I added powdered violets to his coffee.
I smeared lipstick around
his nipples
as he slept.

As for his hair,
I raked it with a paddle brush
and rinsed it in cider vinegar
until it shone like currency.

I shaped his nails
using a serrated grapefruit knife,
drizzled hot wax onto his cuticles and across
his delicate wrists.

The hairs on his slim calves were plucked
using tweezers sharpened with sandpaper,
and his toenails painted an extravagant crimson.

I put him on a masseuse's table,
gently, lips to his lips, to his eyelids,
to his palms.

Then, unlacing his snug corset,
I broke him, bone
by bone, with my woman's tongue.

Finally
I cracked his mouth, opened it
like a snake jaw, counted
his teeth
and used jojoba oil to lubricate his vocal cords.
Now

he speaks my language.