Fringe Water Many Bosom
sings like the loon, trying to
attract attention in hopes
of getting one of their prized
feathers.

She dips her oars sofly so as
not to frighten them.  For half
the day she tries to get a loon
feather.

She tries ... really tries ... but
where there is smoke, there
is fire.

Her mind is filled with thoughts
of rubbing pubic bones with the
young woman smoking salmon
on the bank.

Curved like a bow, but certainly
not 'straight' as an arrow, Fringe
Water Many Bosom scratches
a map onto birch bark and slips it
to the woman on the bank during
a private moment.

She comes to her when the moon
puts light on the blanket.

Moaning with sexual hunger, Fringe
Water Many Bosom caresses her
pubic bone, warming and softening
it.

When she rubs up and down on the
woman's pubic bone like she does
when she rubs two sticks together
to make fire, the woman's sap
begins to flow like the maples'.

Fringe Water Many Bosom pushes
her finger in like a tapping spike,
and then makes the dive in her
sugarbush, using her mouth as a
bucket to collect the precious sap.
"Bellabooo! Nahateee!"

White loon flies by to see what cries
commanded such pleasure and became
intoxicated from the scent pouring from
under the blanket, like the sweet scent
of the maples' sugaring.

It doesn't happen too often, but oh, how
the loons appreciate the sugar maker
being late to come for the buckets,
which are overflowing with the sap the
loons scrape from the tree bark.

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