when i was a cam grl

we all have boys in our mouths
telling us exactly how
they wanted to be eaten.
hunger can turn you
inside out like
a salted slug. how do you learn
what you want versus what
they tell you that you want
versus the craving for licorice?
the way violets would grow 
on the ceiling when i was live.
live fishhook bound worms. live
like a wire burrowed in the wall.
sometimes a man would stay
for hours. i would wish
we were in my  bedroom
with each other so that i could
find a string on his fraying lips
& pull until he was nothing.
a coin is like a seed. 
come back to me. everything i learned
i learned from sirens.
the ships that crashed into 
my thighs. i never loved 
being a girl but there were moments
i could convince myself
that it was a pleasure 
to decide what kind of feast
i would be. i had to pull weeds
from the floor. from my bed.
from the ceiling. they grew wild
& angry. if the night was good
i would put on clothes
& go out to target after. 
walk like a bow & arrow. 
string drawn back. aiming at
pupils like bullseyes. 
"there is a cost to look," i would
want to tell strangers. then, of course,
there is a cost to being
looked at. sometimes though
i was a just my feet. it was wonderful
to walk as if there was not
a whole body following along.
drinking a root beer 
in the parking lot. wondering
if the men were thinking of me still
an hour after the live ended.
i hoped they were. i hoped
they were left as hungry as me.