Russian Doll


your lustrous mango-shape manga-big eyes 

follow me around the room, their lashes

long as rushes rising from some indigo pond:

your Cupid’s Bow redcurrant lips call out


wrench me apart if you want to win my heart


and there you are again, voluptuous,

full and round within voluminous sarafan -

all ornate symmetry of poppy-flower pattern,

pink-flushed cheeks pouting your chorus


tear me apart if you want to win my heart


now you are ever more compact

scaled down, smaller but self-similar,

recursive inverted stack of brimful body

all the while teasing with your soft refrain


wrest me apart if you want to win my heart


you are a living throbbing nub of nesting,

stubbed beauty of immaculate revelation -

palm-fit warm wood with each unlocking,

each onion-skin peel-back sly appeal


slip me apart if you want to win my heart


with every obedience to your quiet command

I learn that hollows are not what they seem,

that a kernel is approaching – I burn for this –

whilst still your close-packed siren song goes


ease me apart if you want to win my heart


until finally your truth is there, carved from a single knot

a tight-chocked nut, nourishment concentrated into core,

exquisite simulacrum of your outer generosity of flesh –

matryoshka babooshka, your secret selves still sing


take me apart if you want to win my heart