Totally sexual altar, she guards my cargo from bandits


My God, that's me in the corner,
that's me in the spotlight,
losing my religion.

You lie naked, scattered on the
mattress, exhausted from wandering
through my spotlight of fame.

You hear the echoes of my
ancient city where caravans
of veiled women paused to
trade with me, each one of
them guarding my precious
cargo of books, beads, and
feathers,  from bandits, on to 
the next watering hole
of women.

Stopping to drink from their
wells, gathering sexuality for the
journey, they're all waiting for
me, beckoning me like a distant
star, even the pretty camel driver
of two millenia ago.

I am so thirsty for it, lots of it,
what a relief to have seen you on
the red sandstone ledge, waving to
me after paying your toll.

My God, that's me in the corner,
that's me in the spotlight,
losing my religion, with you
ancient Petra, with fluent fingers.

My God, that's me in the corner,
that's me in the spotlight,
losing my religion, reorganized into
cooperative venture.

When I'm thirsty, out of water,
you're a good place to know.

My God, that's me in the corner,
that's me in the spotlight,
losing my religion, lying naked
on the mattress, cord attached
to your canteen, lowering it into
your hole, filling my mouth
to the brim before I strike out
across the flint-strewn sand.

Come with me and my camel
driver from two millenia ago,
on to the next watering hole
of women.

My God, that's me in the corner,
that's me in the spotlight,
losing my religion ...

Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist, brainchild of Sage Sweetwater Creative Properties, flagship of Stone Creek Woman