for me, no amount
of censorship can erase
the aura of the shadows of
the night, you see, I've seen it
with you, it is embedded deep
inside of me,

I stare at your
protuberance, a
lesbian scholar who
translates the veins cast
from a male porn star as a
penetrating symbol, joined, we 
have broken the celibate pyramid
code, celebrating a rise in power that
never goes flaccid,

I stare with
wildly aroused
vision at the animated 
serpentine shadows of the
night, making the erotic poster
on the wall with you as we illustrate
and engage in artistic intercourse, your
language you carve inside me predates a
Mayan glyph, the place of the temple jaguar
goddess dripping on my interior walls done in
jade and travertine,

excavating me in ritual,
at some lesbian Acropolis,
you've gone deeper, so much
deeper, beyond the limited world
of pomp and politics, your penetrating
inscription in the Long Count system,
a calendrical notation you give as to the
number of days until Vernal Equinox, the
location date of the find,

hard jaguar panting,
I stare at your protuberance
suspended in time on the wall, the
shadows of the night, where you have
deciphered more than half of the glyph this 
year of painstaking, expanding the metaphorical
scope of inquiry of this century's music of Pat Benatar,

translating the shadows of the night...


Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater, Celebrity firebrand lesbian novelist