Cracks

I am a one woman drum:
Not in a 'Let's get back
To the rhythm
Of our wombs' sense
God, no -
I mean, I crack.
The gun-fire
Of my spinal chord
Has sent grown men cringing.
I chicken flex shoulders
To get the special pop
Between my breasts:
It's a favourite.
Rex is my chiropractor
He thumbs my sacrum
In such a way, I am
Hyper mobile for him.
A percussive beauty
Made for the circus.