Slasher Movie

Perhaps it's that he's masked,
More than his knife,
That terrifies us. It's
How he wants to punch
Through the thin film
Of skin that holds our guts,
Our self—ourselves—together. It's how
Fragile we are, liquid,
Ready at any breach
To run down the nearest drain,
Like storm water or motor oil,
Discarded into the sea,
For better or worse.

So, yes, your body
Being given up to mine
Is an object of celebration.
And a major part of this is trust.
I trust you will respect me,
My age and experience, my
Desire for you, and for us.

And when you do not,
As you will not, eventually,
I will slice your beautiful white throat.
Carefully, as if killing a chicken
Whose breast I would later pound down
Into a fine medallion,
To be served à la Marsala
With a passable Beaujolais.