the ruby

Fingers pink, palms pallid, you hold
​Things like my shoulders and the finances
Down. As you wish.
I feign the dance of the white swan in your bed.
But there is a nook in my back,
A pinch of space between my spine
And the sheets.
There, the black feathers grow
And you don’t know
That I’m never quite planar under
Your calloused hands.
You don’t see the blue veins, roads
Snaking through my body,
Leading to my spine,
To the place where the night flies.
And yet the sun - I swear it favors me,
For you are always cold and I am always
Warm.
Do you know how a ruby forms?
Pressure, darkness, and heat.