FLOUNCING BOUNCING

By Leota Brigida Harriman

biting her on the back of the neck, pinning her to the floor 

flexing haunches, positioning himself for the act 

it’s still practice for them, she’s a kitten yet, not old enough for procreation 

sometimes she tries to get away, he pounces, he's twice her size 

he catches her easily, again and again 

holding her immobile by the back of her neck 

her throat against the floor, kitty ass in the air 

tail swishing furiously

she might turn suddenly and grab his head between her front paws 

kicking, struggling, claws out – hind legs striking powerfully, hard, harder.

when he decides he's had enough, he ambles away, testicles jostling 

she finds refuge in spaces to small for him to enter

for her part, flouncing bouncing beauty, gleaming golden in the sun

tail flicked provocatively in his whiskers 

pheromones blazing, rocketship toward sexual maturity 

irresistibly drawn to him for another game of tag, 

she finds herself 

held down 

by the throat 

again