where the writers are

Now delightfully
showered with his devotion
I slither closer.

Now I jump from mind
to unpreoccupied mind
uncovered like her.

He loves me the most
here of all holy places,
my birthplace, my town.

I open the gate
to the carnival seekers
bound in a tangle

with lovers' secrets,
the darkest corner of lust,
the brightest of pain.

To close the circle
I gingerly cross my legs
untying the chain.

A vortex unseen
opens under demons' feet
and shrinks to a crown.