inclined
to think it
justifiable,
cat o' nine tails
firmly planted in
her trembling hand,
switched to daughter
of desire, sustaining her
evolution, she peered out
the window, the sycamore tree
limbs thrashing in the wind, the
sap running, so why shouldn't she,
better yet she clicked on the circulating
fan, the nine tails flailed,

there, surrounded
by the bookshelves
with Abraham Lincoln's
Emancipation Proclamation
and Marquis de Sade, she in
rebellion, put forth into motion,
lust enforcement proceedings, the
woman in her bed insisted that it be
voluntary,

in incremental
approach, the stripings
on bare flesh, once, twice,
and again, no army to falter,
no cabinet to subdue, Abraham
Lincoln determined this, we must
free the slaves or ourselves be subdued,

her preference
although something
she had already anticipated,
and beyond the worries of intervention,
cat o' nine tails coming into contact with
the woman's ass in her bed, how dare they
confiscate rebel property, she whipped her in
heated passion as the last measure in exhausted
government, the cat o' nine tails blessed like an old
pump handle working steadily,

the woman
in her bed, not
wishing to prolong
it any longer, she dipped
the quill in orgasmic ink and
commenced the signing, the
parchment unrolled, if my name
ever goes into history, it will be for
this act, the woman in her bed handed
it for witnessing to the third woman in the
room.

Copyright 5.24.2010 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist