Afterlife: Twerking a Signal to Sirius

the oppression
bottled up in
celestial
mead

the confession;
politics DWAI
leather ticket
waved

split tail rebels
crotchless panties
sniffing raw
stardust

what S & M
doesn't whip
on Pleiades
the nostrils
vacuum

remembering the
stripper pole
as nothing
more than
to wrap

yule tinsel
around a
fantasy
real

twerking a
signal to
Sirius

that tribbing
was legal to
only those
women who
rubbed

the lottery
ticket with
feeling

afterlife pays out
its tribute in
gold

harp strings plucked
religion's f***
light as a
feather

iridescent pheasants
mascots to the angels
pecking on grains
feeding on plural
clitori

Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, Celebrity firebrand lesbian novelist