by Greg Baysans

Poet X


"The fictional representation of an action or an experience generally excuses us from trying to realize it on an actual level, or in ourselves." -- Jean Genet

Nymphette is worshipped 
by a circle of bike riders 
on their bare stomachs 
in leather and motor oil 
at the foot of her white pedestal. 
Hands on hairy arms 
touch the base of it. 
She spurns them then 
masturbates under a spotlight 
as they swoon. The next night 
the bike riders reach her, 
their dirty nails slice her legs 
while sliding down. Her sweat 
is red. She screams and comes, 
falls to the floor where 
they're on her like lean dogs. 
I am the Nymphette 
and in the last act 
become the biker I've 
long wished to be 
and am hungry again.