After Nine Poem. Sexed Up Room

In the stifling air of a sexed up room
the lovers examine each other
he looking at her teethed red throat
she stringing out spunk
they are quite at one

On the cracked up walls in the afternoon room
the bedstead bangs out of key
its thunderous sound a thud thud thud
chucks family frames way off the wall
he the master then delivers with baton erect
swearing words like fuck ride and mother
it's the performance of his career
she the ladylover singing with operatic notes
yells till the fat lady comes

Silent with relief
they smooth out brows
each hair so fantastic, precise
going over their terrains with contented hands
they trace imaginary countries
this is where my froggy lives
and this is how I eat her
and this is where my horsey stands
and this is how I ride him

they laugh very loud so the neighbours can hear
then whack and smack like bongo drums
ample wet bellies and cheeks
but fear not
little bits of remnant sex dry quick in the sexed up room
and looking up at the cobwebbed corner
they examine each other no more.