Vixen

pop open the cork

hear it swoon
and whistle
until it hits its head
on a wall

the white spume
of celebration
tickles your throat
and makes you laugh
in melodious tones

gorgeous 
insatiable
conversation drips
from every gleaming tooth
telling everyone you're available
for fun

the carpet on your bare feet
a stage
where war is waged
on innocence

the lights are off in favour of candles
whose glow makes your skin
soft
and almost makes you dimple
under the touch
of a hot hand

your little dress
pulled like skin
around your thighs

men are moths
fluttering directionless
around the sin of your afterglow
tapping their hairy
insect legs
clicking their excitement
in a mating call
you answer with a wink
or roll of tongue

you create this fantasy
producing a script
of unlikely characters
they dance
on the end of your string
cry painted tears at a whim
all for you...