Bitingly Good

She'd always wanted
to read erotic stories
that revolve around
the trapping of men:
A shipwreck would do
or a satisfyingly
cataclysmic crash:
their final climax;

Let them be captured
by Amazon cannibal
folk, who would use them
for tribal gene pools;
This is survival
of the fittest and, even
then, there are great feasts
for new visitors;

Lost aviators
and mariners have children,
parents and sweet wives,
who travel for miles;
They seek, despairing
of news; and their hunger grows;
so all repasts help
to keep up their strength;

And in the dark, drums
beat; while Amazons smile and
stir the great stew pots
filled with exotic meats;
and strange liquor drunk
leads to loosening tongues
and obscure murmurs;

"Pretty things," they say,
showing familiar trinkets:
wristwatches and rings;
"Where are they?" Wives cry
"You, I and the great
chiefs have eaten well, tonight,"
native women grin
intoxicated;

And what of consent?
What of it? Morality:
there's a fine word,
she smiles happily;
Then, closing her book,
she turns out the bedside light
and slips under sheets
for bitingly good head.