Ecstasy, she’s insane. She has no right
to open gates of hell
fastened by our consensual murmur,
obscured and ordained by fogs of fear
through ages of heart-felt poverty.
Transparent and shameless,
Laughing through court endorsement,
Celebrating the living pulse
despite starvation clauses,
She shamelessly ripples through
the tired flesh of the accused.
Bring in the weapons of mass control!
The sexual threat, the rape, the curse!
Call up thought police and smoke screens of fear!
Hold her back, before she conceives!
Who can arrest her and enforce a whorish detention
in that manic space that should never be named?
Too late, she is already Dervishly dancing
through frozen love and thwarted peace
immersed in the flooding river of us all.
She is here, crested with the white purity of bliss,
her freedom wonderously chanting
our impending end.
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