Eros Thimbles Under the Moon of the Evening Grosbeak. Poem. Sage Sweetwater

clouds of incense
sewn with threads of
the Silver Cord,

out of body nakedness
stitch-by-niche drifting under
the moon, luna parts the dark side
of her thighs to let in some ethereal light,

 ’tis the passerine
bird who scolds us out
of the physical body into
the astral body –

the polyphyletic
assemblage of the
songbird, the evening
grosbeak branching on
what is balanced of All-That-Is
going out on the astral limb of a
protector of love –

the eros thimble
under the moon of
the evening grosbeak
to repel the puncture of
the needle; the closer I get
to the honeycreeper’s nectar
the more I drip with sweet prophetic
wisdom stitch-by-niche.

Copyright © Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist