The Offering                  

The curtain rises at 8:30 pm.
This is my final performance - -
         my last offering.
 I wear a long, shiny satin red gown,
           with flowing sleeves
                         making wings
                               when I raise my arms.
On my feet are three-inch heels
           to lift me off the ground.
In center stage, in the spotlight
   sits a rectangular black table,
   at the end of which are stirrups,
           facing the audience -
           the usual black hole
           of bodies and faces.
                                        
I walk out onto the stage
         and lay down on the table.
I place my feet in the stirrups
           and spread my legs.
     (a slight moment of tension
               when the thighs will not release . . .
                           and then the letting go - -
                                           the surrender.)
I slowly pull up my red gown,
           until I can feel the spotlight shining hot
                                   between my legs.
I begin singing a song - -
         about a man holding me in his arms,
                     and my seeing life
                               through rose-coloured glasses.
I reach down the front of my dress
         and pull out a necklace,
         from between my breasts - -
                               a switcblade
                                   hanging on a gold chain.
I take the switchblade off the chain.
I am singing all the while,
           of life through rose-coloured glasses . . .
               of a man  I'd follow anywhere
My legs, spread wide apart
         are a shimmering golden gate - -
             open to the spotlight
My feet, still in three-inch heels
           are in the stirrups
I place the switchblade between my legs,
           with its tip nestled in my hair.
I push the button to release the blade
           which shoots out, inside me.
I am still singing.
With a swift, circular motion,
         I neatly slice off a piece of my cervix.
I pull out the blade,
         with my flesh offering skewered on its tip.
I rise up from the table
         and with both hands, I hold the blade aloft
                   for all to see my sacrifice.
I have red wings.
I stand with my legs apart
My blood flowing a crimson path to the audience
I tear off a piece of my gown
           and gently wrap my offering in the red cloth.
I turn my back to the audience,
   and over my left shoulder
           I toss the small bundle
                   like a bridal bouquet
                           into the black hole
My performance is over.