Making it in silence
like Theda Bara
with a moon over her shoulder
and a man at her neck,
nuzzled and twisted
– no time for rest while
being speared senseless from behind
(who says she needed an apple crate?).
She liked her neck bent too far…
Men like Boris and Buster
sneezed magic into small frames
but the beast used the whole
damn landscape to woo her
into submission, a relatively common
explained by talking animals
and hifalutin dance moves (in capes).
Moaning is meaningless
unless someone’s there to catch it.
Her release sounded like shuffling
and looked like a Ferris wheel
from beneath, all spun glitter,
tales of derring-do spilling from cars
into a thick night.