it’s not that i’m allergic
to the stings
or even particularly mind
(most of the time)
but it invites clothing myself
in canvas
in leather and netting
remember this
the next time you beg me
to take off my armor
for a distant promise
of mead i’ve yet to taste
this isn’t an o. henry story
i’m shorn yes but
you never brought the comb
don’t be sad
i’ll still plant flowers
all over my skin
mattress dungeon 