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