By Chad Hollis
In a somnambulant caprice she allowed him
to take her just a little bit roughly
enough to pulp her lips for a few hours after
and leave the inbetween of her
her warm summer thighs feeling his form
until late in the day
This was the fifth tired Saturday
in a row since the leaves began to fall
that she plunged her eyes into him
and like a harpoon let the barbs
set themselves before dragging him in
for regenerative flaying
Her favorite place was the library
engirded by the wainscotted chair railed
walls upon which oiled shelves of volumes
perched like gargoyles gazing over a churchyard
with one foot on an ancient leather settee
and her bunched tunic sweater dress
collaring about her hips wispily
balancing gave control to her pleasure
she was in that regard a technical tactician
she gripped him to keep steady
as he became a felo de se
and she a praying mantis
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