On lesbian sex

The night time rituals, the pagan festival

that dances in the shadows, on the mattress

evolve escape entwine within the fibers of your heart

my legs, our sweetness blossoming. Darling,

was it you or me who pushed and tugged and

thundered through this dense collapsed night-substance?

the limit of my skin and yours somehow erased, transcended:

I wouldn’t be surprised to wake with your birthmarks.