My mustang

Your stare
Was more
Sinister
In the new moon;
I used your arms,
Held them
like reins
by the wrists
behind you;
I could just
Make out
The whites
Of your eyes,
Looking back,
I thought,
“Is this how
a mustang’s
broken?”
I rode you
Until the
Arrival
Of your ecstasy
In a full moon,
Bucking
Me only
In fits
Of passion.