Madonna on the Mechanical Bull
by Veeda Khan
I resist going
down, that back spine sliver
of will. One more notch
to risk the waist a
little lower, to bring
the belt somewhere else.
All blessings are public.
In private, we come
back. To shoulder and sink,
there is no gaze more traveled,
no stray embrace that doesn’t leave
a mark.
I know. Let me go. I am hardy,
worth it after all. Speed is
incisive. Only surprise
leaves me be.