I tilt my head,

sway my hips,

lengthen my stride:

Look at me.

 

I am secret seduction

wrapped in a bantam bow.

I am seen,

not heard.

Posed for you to look at.

Look at me.

 

I am long ligaments

under soft supple skin.

An arms-length away

walking for you to notice.

Look at me.

 

I am a chin tucked,

eyes lowered,

dutiful docility personified.

Pliant as playdough.

 

Eyes expressing no dissent: acceptance.

Acceptance of those who look,

and those who don’t.

 

Never entirely sure of which is better.

 

Look at me?