the nine of cauldrons, The Witch on Horseback, temperance and the ace of boulders, would you want her rubbing your shoulders, the great owl carries the Truth scroll...and the thunder rolls,
she unbuttons her black tunic, seduces you with her own designs, Tarot of Prague, collaged erotic lesbian photographs of Prague's art, lathers you there...there on the Witch Dance horsetrail, no time for your emotions to be frail,
she rides you until dawn, all the apparatus leather is soaked, the chrome is ablaze, she goes down carriage road, breathless passion, in the name of Estebčne de Cambrue...and the thunder rolls,
"s'esbattre!" "yield to none going to Sabbath," the key to the door is the same place you left it, you're in your usual mode of locomotion, the horse goes in your own ground, buried, you gave it over for lost, she mounts you rear Turfhills, goes hard into the ancient to fetch it...and the thunder rolls,
replicated vein stemming into mushroom head dipt in Oyl, I carry it to your place, you One of Madame Bourignon's girls, declare that your lover comes upon a horse, wooden nail, fix the saddle, of Women, Spits, and Bedposts, a meadow of unbridled passion...and the thunder rolls,
the method of locomotion, f***ing in the Aberdeen Covens, stick-riding, Pype of oyntment, greased the staff, the witch flies...and the thunder rolls,
broom staves, riding you, worshipping the forests of any kind, put my arm around your waist, in the house of Bessie Vickar, I ate and drank with the Paisley witch and we burned the bridges of Cortaquhie, and the destruction was so arranged, I could smell the devil in the room...and the thunder rolls...
Sage Sweetwater has closed her poetry board for reviews on Authors Den. Please feel free to read Sage's poetry, but she asks that her readers leave no reviews. Thank you to all of you who have been generous and left reviews for Sage Sweetwater since July 2005. Thank you.
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