Dance of Von Teese

I was a shape

that waits

to be carved

with a sculptor’s knowing hands,

emerging from alabaster white

into sharp relief,

bright scandalous technicolor,

cherries in the snow.

This is who I really am.

My breasts adorned with crystals,

my hips overflowing

from the curvaceous narrowing of my waist

into abundant fans of feminine plushness,

punctuated by a skimpy g-string of jewels;

I am everything

that I was never supposed to be:

a woman with power.

Glamour was a spell,

sensuality a witches brew.

I became a fashionable bitch

who walked the catwalk of her own shadow;

femme fatale.

I embraced the dark goddess

who lived inside me.

By the heat of my careful alchemy,

lines blurred between fantasy and reality,

dream and life.


I danced across the stage of life,

big energy, a woman writ large,

a high octane Sorceress

soaring like a star

through the heavens.

If Only

If only I had the power and poise of a ringmaster
I would create a circus to amuse you,
of daredevil stunts and exotic pleasures.
Already I have flipped and dove
like an acrobat
for you.
Flying into thin air
and falling into the net
of nothing.
I have performed for you
my titillating burlesque show.
I have given you too many sweets.
But I have not lead you
inside the lion’s den,
nor fed you to the hungry tigers.

You are a strange one, my love.
Not made of soft earth like me,
but of fire,
and the wind
that feeds it.

Your mother ran out of milk
while you were still suckling.
Lack became your preferred feast.
Now you crave the torment
of a dry breast,
a woman who gives nothing.

If only
I could give you that!
Maybe someday, someday
I will stop loving you

and seduce you
the right way.