Her
By Paulette Beete
A found poem: Interview with Michael Fassbender,British GQ, February 2012
In an unremarkable bar you conjure
an indecent proposal: Give in.
You take off your charm, eyes backlit
with a kind of handsome sadness.
Byron gone off-duty,
you chameleon bashed-up, vulnerable.
How many times can a girl fast-talk
herself out of hunger?
I want to take off my locks in the center of the maelstrom.
I want to acquiesce, accept your gun-metal desire.
I want things to get very haywire very quickly.
I want to erupt.
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