she lets her
earthy sensuality
come out in the wilderness
under the spell of the mushroom,
portabello,
shitake,
spinning temple
silk from her ancient
weaving loom, taking me
all in, tutelage from the damp
toadstool, the wisdom rehydrated
after being frozen for centuries of capped
restraint, why an ancient civilization collapsed,
she slides her finger up and down to reveal a conclusion,
swelling of the pink rhododendron, it's no illusion, save a tree,
fell an orgasm,
climax just
ahead on the
forepeak, away from
her easel temporarily,
it is now do we hear her
speak "logger put on your
hardhat, I am about to fall so
hard!" the maples running their
sap, she's intoxicated on fermented
Vermont grape,
running and
saturated with
fruits of her self-labor,
wine sweetens her curious
lips, another woman's Pussy to
fuck, fells her to her knees, she
prays for it, coming under nature's
ultra-violet lamp, horses tied back at
the camp, woodland so thick, the darkness
lit by a light hole of salvation in the canopy of
ecology, hives of honey bees, save the trees, it
is now do we hear her speak, "I like what I know,
I dream of a sage so long ago,
Yes
I was
trained in
ancient times
to respond to my
ancient roots, my sexual
needs, merging with the jungle,
Angkor Ta Prohm Temple ancient
silk cotton roots, once home to hundreds
of monks, flame-shaped nagas, trusted spirits
to bring rain, I bless my helplessness to stop this
orgasm...My God, it's too late...logger put on your hardhat!"
Copyright 8/4/2009 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
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