by Dennis Mahagin
(10/27/04)

A fine
fine line
indeed -- knots on
the nylons
binding wrists
to bedposts,

musky blindfold
of thong and pasties
like swimmers' goggles,

and her hot
mouth,
inches
from my ear:

"What makes you think
I would ever let you leave, darling?"

She pulls back
the tangy
panty gag
from my lips
just long enough
to let me gasp
in reply:

"What makes you think
I would ever want to?"

There is a smattering
of ecstatic applause
from the mockingbirds
and grackles
in the birch branches
just outside our window --

then her fingers
dig into the drenched
nest of hair
on my heaving chest

and it starts up
all over again.

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