the red tent

under the red tent.
desire burns
steadily.
without shame.

a sisterhood
of humans
huddle
around the hearth.
living their stories,
as they speak,
into the circle
of Silence.

'let there be spaces
in your togetherness',
she whispers,
listening with intent.

unheard of stories
of the beasts,
the whores,
the witches,
the truants,
the pimps.
voices drowned
and aborted
in the wombs
shed together,
for the dream
of a better world,
where heaven
must be brought
to earth
at any cost.

they are not the same.

where flames
must be put out
before they spread
out into the wild,
from where they came.

the red tent lives
somewhere,
without a name.