Two great ladies
One hot and wild
The dance; the arms flail
The legs stamp
The mouth opens in silent rapture
She moves through me
Jumping and starting
Shouting and biting down
On cries that seem too crow like
To be human.
Two great ladies
One cool and proud
The dance; grace comes
Flows to finger tips
That trace the willing webs
Around the space we meet.
I move with her
Guided by twin lights
But torches in my hands
And mine alone.

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