I Surrender, Dear

"I Surrender, Dear" (Clifford-Barris)

Monk was hammering it on his piano as he
made you stand in front of him and undress,
shred after tasteful shred.
The long zip sighed, opening
tooth by tooth and the
flowered silk dress shucked to reveal
the balconnet bra, black and
matching your hold-ups,
your aching nipples and that
you'd shaved.
"Everything"—one simple word
so shaming and arousing: all
your effort strewn about his unhoovered floor.
Embarrased and determined—
what would your husband think?
Would he be here, if he knew, to watch
your feet waving in the air
like white flags?