SIRENSANGHA

Gamelon

velvet trepidation embarks

unsacrosanct and

oblivious to anything but

the deluge between her thighs

monsoon season

low throbbing drum cajoles

and the dinging and singing

of sweaty processions in the dirt road

beside the hut

where she turns lazy tricks

for love offerings from gurus

whose countenances

smack of concealed lust, and

who reek of shit and mosquito repellent.

she just flares her nostrils

dances out into the street and away

like nothing

a door unhinged

mad with life

singing with the orchestra

in the road

about the death of her child

not yet a woman

longing to be submerged in the swollen river

again and again and again

The Lovers (c)2004 by Lauren Raine

May Portal

we stole away from the wedding party
with plastic cups of wine
you led me through the trees
looking for our axis mundi
and we climbed
shhhh-ing, giggling
i silently watched, swimming in
the dappled sunlight on your hair
falling over your shoulders
and your calves flexing as you climbed
lost
your soft eyes
penetrated me so

you were a stranger then

i made comments to myself -
words like
fate
and
potential
and
abandon
and
love...

we reached the top of the hill
and you laid me down
kissing me in honeyed grass
our tongues circling in dance
i opened to you in such a way
as i had never opened
my dress opened
and my thighs trembled, ached,
and opened
and spilled rivulets of wet desire
you watched them trickle
down into the grass
and smiled
and then loved me like the sky loves the earth
i even said to you,
'you are the sky'
while i was the fecund earth receiving her lover

between our thrusts,
between our cries and gasps and clutches,
between swirling moments,
dimensions colored aquamarine
and tasting of sweet manna
opened...
i held your face in my hands
lost in your cinnamon eyes...
and then the void spun
above you
beneath me
and all that existed
was you
thrusting and crying and dying into me
and me
glorious and shattered and lost
and no separation.

now you are a stranger again.  

Ecstasy (The Dancer) (c)2004  by Lauren Raine

My Innanna

sidhe priestess counts the dots
connects them, traces a path
with her little finger
held straight aloft
the milky way in such a way is subdued.
her overtures to the universe
tonight echo, grazing stars
this abundant clarity!
this licking flame!
the goddess answers from the trees
her song, descending, caressing
like a lover's tongue, cool on the belly
spilling tendrils seize earth, seize the sidhe
innanna luminous as she bends near enough to kiss
spilling breasts
her love is too large to contain
milk overflowing
in gratitude
'i am you'  

Creamery

tonight in the kitchen

scrambling eggs i touched

the counter, remembering

that sunday when you came

to dinner - i was

perched there - safe from

contact with your body, a

comfortable distance arrived at

by knees in front, legs together.

suddenly you advanced,

offering your friendly embrace

in a gesture of cruel truce -

parting my knees gently

with your hands

to step nestling into the fork

of my thighs. you stood

close between them to

bury your face in my hair,

your arms circled my ache.

could you feel the throb

of my cunt on your belly

in its wetly defiant act

of betrayal? i think you

took much pleasure from

knowing that it throbbed

just then.

and saturday after that

when i saw you

you embraced me again tilting

your face toward my neck

breathing me in

as you held me in a

too-long-for-just-friends hold

and your lips brushed my neck

like instinct; and that torrent again

of heart and cunt in betrayal

at remembering the dizzying scent of

your newly excited maleness

at that exquisite moment;

the anticipation of knowing

your hardness again...

almost grazing my soft belly now

as i rise back up sighing again;

to kiss you all over with wet

lips-breathing fast and bated,

eyes glazed and wild again

to slide down, enraptured again

mmm over that lovely swollenness...

(addendum: a word about the author...)

i am a factory.

an overheated machine, whirring

steaming, then reluctantly

finally coming

to rest -

letting the milk

settle and separate

from the molecules

of thicker wilder stuff;

that congeal

then spew upward through the mass,

coming together

to form into larger singular drops;

thoughts, words, then sentences,

then volumes - which

rise up like cream

to be culled

from the surface