Sarah St. Vincent: For a sparring partner

Here is the dance
of things I should have done,

the rehearsal that comes
when the show has already
left town.

My hands at your throat, 
your fingers wrapped around
my hip joint

like a lover
but less
dangerous.

I will make you my instrument.

Your body will sing 
with pain
and I will study
that songbook,
listen for the sounds
I have known and been,
never again to be tongueless
with my mouth in a helpless

O.

I will see the blows coming
and I will win.

We will perform, 
show our strength,
      sparring,

moving across a stage
on which you are the only 
actor, unwitting stand-in
for a giftless clown

and I will love you for that innocence
even as I bruise us
to the bone