Once, she opened it as usual, 
                                                with a soft click
of cartilage slipping farther. Each and every jaw
unlocks this way, a complex apparatus
that “translates,” as they say, past the first ahhh

of release. She felt it, 
                                   like in cinematic
slow motion, the articulated snap of saliva
when the tongue took its half-automatic
fall to the floor, and then the still awe

of being all the way agape. 
                                            Who will witness
that moment? Who will think through the moves
she took in laying out her body on the bed?

Who will translate what it meant for this
woman to test the muzzle, if not me, too,
who can buy a gun? 
                                 I will not turn my head.