What is demanded?
A prick of blood
Years of unknowing,
Dead, like sleep
The name I refuse to call
My worth is tempered
With steel, and heart
Folded in my pockets
Hidden from the numbers
Calculated and offered
I know that you see
My hand, bent back
Covering in modesty
My allowances, tested
With your overreaching and
Insincerity
I may glance under eyelashes
Reaching you
Evaluating the risk
This weight
The price of words to me
Can sit and fill
Spilling
Why is it you are charged
By a glance under eyelashes
Or a glimpse of my flesh
Do you see an imprint of my worth
Behind the soft hair on my neck
the numbers changing with age
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