RIGID

Sometimes her body beats her,
Moisture gathering in intimate spots,
Surprising even her as she watches,
Clean smelling, manicured, confident,
Without the obligatory butt crack display,
New leaks begin to appear.

Strong hands turning parts,
Plastic, copper, solder,
Soon his creation will be done—he will leave.

Hesitation,
Heart pounding like a steam radiator struggling to keep up with the January cold,
He smiles, his face coming alive,
He is oblivious, almost done,
What to do, what to do…

The woman in the mirror watches and wonders,
Like a delicate doe sensing danger in a field of fresh snow,
The woman in the mirror watches as her hand reaches out,
His leg is firm,
He jumps in surprise and cracks his head on the sink basin,

“Shit”
Reality ripples through the mirror, startling both,
Vulgarity seemingly at home in this room,
From this man,
Who teaches it how to run downhill.

The woman in the mirror places a delicate finger to her lips,
Pleading for silence,
Knowing that one more sound and she’ll bolt,
Disappear for evermore,
He hesitates,
A silly grin on his face.

Her hand moves up,
The lady in the mirror strains to see over the countertop,
Tools fall to the floor as blood red fingernails struggle with a zipper not their own,
He watches, smiling.

A new tool appears,
And almost as quickly she engulfs it,
Scared, knowing that to think now is to flee,
To act is to be,
The lady in the mirror watches as auburn hair bobs,
She smiles knowingly.

Cheeks hollow as wet slurping noises emanate from beneath the sink,
All else is quiet,
He watches keenly,
She sucks harder, willing herself through the disbelief,
A strange familiarity begins warming her loins,
Though his tool never leaves her mouth; lips slip apart, wet and ready,

His eyes closed,
The lady in the mirror watches,
Conscious only of the bobbing hair,
It is warms in the room,
To hot for sweatpants and undies,
Standing up quickly she gazes back at the lady in the mirror,
Hypnotized,
Clothes shed like a second skin.

Moving forward,
Naked sex glistening, wanting, parting, dripping as it seeks,
Impalement, all leaks must be plugged, Seeking,
She sinks down upon the pseudo-tool steel,
Satisfaction filling as strange arms grasp her naked ass.

The lady in the mirror smiles as passions depths approach brutality,
She is strangely aware of the ticking clock on the wall,
Time is running late,
Faster still she pumps,
Grinding down,
Seemingly frantic as she tries to take more inside,
Some leaks can’t be plugged.

A deer in rut,
This is how she fucks,
And the woman in the mirror smiles in pleasure as the turbulences builds,
Cascading in waves that threaten to overwhelm,
She can feel him stiffening inside her as she slips over the threshold,
The wrench on the floor is marked ‘RIGID’

Panting,
Breaths coming in ragged gasps,
He swells inside her, growing even larger,
She slips through the doorway of consciousness,
Drifting on orgasmic clouds,
Vaguely aware of the spastic leak filling her from a fleshy faucet.

The universe collapses as she spirals uncontrollably,
Collapsed upon him she lies,
Heightened senses smell the flux, the solder,
Mingled with her sex, his muskiness,
She untangles herself and with a quick peck on the cheek is gone,
The mirror reflects nothing,
The tool marked ‘RIGID’ starts to move again.