Prelude to Whoredom

I remember the first time I was born"nicotine 
never faded across my tongue.
All the while I only 
thought of my sister’s China pots.

Feathers latched onto those
marbled infants: hollowed to last forever,
Calibrated to the illusion of the earth
she spun slowly.

It wasn’t so hard"all you had to do was
Spill the tea all over the body.Again and again
Until you found that what you’re holding up to your eyes
Was a body of a saint.

You’d be surprised with the many 
ways you can baptize a girl.
My lips will hold up its
shape for a century she had imprisoned.

Author's Note

I'd appreciate the feedback. It would really help me a lot. I just want to know if somehow I successfully captured something that runs beneath the surface in words and images.