Let me be the man
with the bag over my head
kissing the bag over
your head, your head
also under a bag. Let my
burlap lips graze your
burlap face, my canvas
tongue snag your sand-
paper cheek. Let me be
the man in the painting.
Cock your neck, chin tilt
while I stand. Bend to.

Let me be the man, leaning
over you. Over your head,
over your gagged mouth—
my man's face in a bag
over you, your head

in a bag.

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I've made creepiness one of my top poetic goals. Watching Murder, She Wrote and eating deviled eggs are two activities that seem to help. The painting in question in this poem is "The Lovers."