you unfasten your black
and brass suspenders and
take off your frontier canvas
pants, sit at your desk, staring at
your cobalt square glass inkwells,
four of your favorite colors, blue,
verdi, bordeaux, tobacco sienna, dip
your goose quill, your pocket watch from
another time timing the celebration of lighting
the candle and melting the red-wick mailable wax,
heart design wax seal, I sit in the corner on the parlor rocker,

you pull your silver lonestar
slide down on your lavender
silk jacquard neck scarf, unbutton
your white cotton twill bib blouse, I bite
the filagree buttons, you pay me to kiss your
lawless breasts, unpin your Brothel Inspector
badge and put it in your ivory box with the painted
acanthus leaf, neverminding the government who employs
you as brothel inspector, your authentic job title in this
Old West town, the brothel where I work,

you lay me on your
brass-trimmed iron bed
and leave me to pleasure myself
while you write your resignation letter,
and when you are ready to seal it, you put
flame to the wick and walk to me, tilting the
candle, dripping with excitement, the hot spillage
on my breasts, you stamp me with your heart design
wax seal, and then you walk back to your desk and light
the resignation letter on fire, toss it into the waste basket,
Midnight in Montgomery, you step outside and toss the flaming
waste basket into the side of the brothel, knowing they would not
accept your resignation, a crime of passion...



Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist