Poem? I'm so there!

One is supposed, I gather, to post a poem upon seeing this post. Do so if you like. I'd love to see them.

Here's mine:

The Friend
by Marge Piercy

We sat across the table.
he said, cut off your hands.
they are always poking at things.
they might touch me.
I said yes.

Food grew cold on the table.
he said, burn your body.
it is not clean and smells like sex.
it rubs my mind sore.
I said yes.

I love you, I said.
That's very nice, he said
I like to be loved,
that makes me happy.
Have you cut off your hands yet?