Twist, curl
unravel…
Am I spinning,
flowing,
burning, glowing?
Skin flushed,
eyes smoldering,
fetters blown away
like weightless dust…
What magic is it
that could lift woman
to spirit?
From trapped soul
to breathing flesh?
To trust…
To be ignited…
To find sanctuary enough
to let woman revel
In the divine, radiant role
of muse and temptress.
To be made an
impious inferno
and a religion
in one.