When your thing gets wild

Wendy held the bottle of pomegranate liqueur upside down
and peered through its neckhole;
depressingly, it was indeed quite empty.
Not surprising considering how much
she and her sisters had drunk, but still.
That was her favorite, second only to wine.
With an apologetic shrug to the shrine
she licked the bottle’s rim
and then placed it on the counter
along with all the others they’d drained that night.
So many kinds of alcohol
mixing and sloshing in her belly,
tomorrow was really going to suck
but the candles were still burning
(casting eerie shadows on the God’s bearded mask)
and the music still playing
(its driving, pulsing beat doing weird things to her brainmeats)
and the other Mainades still dancing
(a blur of lithe limbs, loose hair and flowing fabrics on her periphery)
and suddenly it all hit Wendy
and she collapsed to the floor,
skin burning, room spinning, close to hyperventilating
and a wave of pleasure sharper, brighter, more intense
than any orgasm she’d ever experienced
moved through her like a burrowing snake of fire.
She opened her mouth
– to cry, to laugh, to scream, to call for help, to exultate,
she forgot which, and instead just let her eyes roll back
and rode the snake in the dark,
alone in an apartment of madwomen,
just her and her God in the foliate mask
except he wasn’t all the way over there,
but next to her, on her, in her
all at the same time,
breathing as she breathed,
trembling as she trembled,
smiling at her from the mirror over the fireplace
except instead of her reflection it was him
stepped straight from a South Italian vase
with billowy himation, crown of ivy, feathery narthex
and hunting boots laced to the knees.
He knelt, and tossed his head back violently
and side to side, letting his dark hair fan out
and cover his face,
shaking his torso like a rattle
or a panther readying for a fight,
his eyes staring straight ahead, unblinking,
through the dark canopy of hair,
and he began to ululate, a fierce and terrible sound,
but it was her voice coming from his throat,
and her body dancing
and her heart thundering
for him, with him, in him.