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Wild Dark Shore

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Charlotte McConaghy

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“Cyclops Hill by Stewart Stafford To the cock-fights, O’er the briny pit, Grimy coin, grubby fist, Lip service i’ foaming fit. Fish or fowl, bestir them on, I’ll ne’er stop mine’s feat, An oracle for all-comers, Frolicsome backing i’ th’ heat. Odds be the usurer’s friend, Victor and vanquished spent, Trudge away in silent mourn, To kindly pay the tavern’s rent. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

SexInnuendoDouble EntendreGothic PoetryShakespeareanElizabethan PoetryBawdy ComedyCockfightingAnatomical MetaphorDark Satire
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Modern science has since discovered the positive effect of an infusion of salt on the nervous system, and for lactating mammals, but a tiny male moth with a huge appetite for salt also seems to back the notions of the ancient Greeks--- that salt is a key ingredient for successful sex. The male Gluphisia moth spends most of his short life accumulating enough salt to give his mate a nuptial gift of sodium. This act is achieved by "puddling," or sucking from pools of standing water or moist ground for several hours at a time and squirting out the liquid in strong jets. The process is nothing if not a test of endurance, with the most virile moths squirting out 4,325 jets, or 600 times their bodyweight. The moth only takes in sodium, expelling other nutrients like potassium. The act raises the moth's sodium levels to eight times that of the nonpuddling Gluphisia. Ultimately, the former will give half of this sodium to a mate in a reproductive act by incorporating the sodium into spermatophore, a present of nutrients, protein, and sperm that supplies the female with enough sodium to pass on to her larvae.”

SexSaltReproductionMothsSodiumEntomology
Book:The Best American Food Writing 2023: Eye-Opening Essays on Culture, Inequality, and Justice
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“Can confirm, I said, Italian men make the best lovers. Details, girl, she replied, with a flame emoji. Walking to the kitchen for coffee, I eyed the countertop and flushed; last night, Enzo and I had frantically pushed everything one side. I could make out the outline of a handprint, still visible on the glossy marble countertop. Then I glanced out at the terrace, the railing bright white in the morning sun, remembering how I'd clutched it last night, Enzo's hot breath on the back of my neck. He's very adventurous, I texted back. If there's a solid surface in this place, I think we christened it. Three little dots as Mal typed her reply. That's my kind of sex. I laughed. Before last night, I'd never had sex on a kitchen counter or a terrace partially within view of an entire village. And yet, I'd loved every second of it. I hadn't been worried about breaking rules or being seen. I craved him so bad--- even now, making coffee in the kitchen--- that I thought I might ignite. I think it's my kind of sex now, too, I replied.”

SexSpontaneityLovemakingItalian Men
Book:The Amalfi Curse
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