I hear you knocking
come in, where the firehouse
bell hangs over the entrance...

hop on over that fence,
organic barbwire and roses,
I had no advance notice...

I learned pie dough from
my mother and taught
myself about your fillings...

I hear you knocking
herds of cumulous clouds
gallop across the sheets,
a matrix of shadow and
seduction...

my breast heaves in the
marbled-paper thin air,
slide it between my cleft,
for two days be there...

festooned with your
protuberance, like a
weaverbird carrying
food to her nest...

I hear you knocking
oh baby come in, the sound
of the dew dripping from the
leaf tip, the canvas wet with
desire, you reach more jungle...

your breath heavy with oxygen,
press that leaf against your
lips, oh baby come in...sniff the
chewed ends...bathing among
the lotus flower...atop, a pagoda...
exact likeness in the grooves of
the easel...
I hear you knocking...

Copyright 2006-2009 12 27 Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist