harvest
breasts lifted rippling meres
corsets tight curve myth
codpiece naked cold November
the strongest discard stealth black
life has me such places
modern rite
i recall a bristol roman myth
a harvest celebration
priests parading streets
soughting self–stating virgins
with whip snap and lust
who of us would hide to hide
who of us would hide discovered
who of us would take the priestly vows
is shiva changer here
the harvest festival
what he could do
An earlier version of this poem was published by Subverse in May 2003.
