She Responds To A Pagan Seducer

Do not speak to me
if you’re going to speak of
the way
my aura shines.

Do not say things about
the clan to which my ancestors belonged
or imagine the way my sun sign
could heat you up.

I wasn’t born yesterday,
or even ten thousand years ago
in Atlantis or its suburbs.
I know the score:

you want to and it’s unseemly
to say so, so you invent
a soulmate and make me
stand in for that Angel.

I am my own light, I can see you,
and if you need me to shine hotter
for you, just say so.
I’m no fickle candle. I’ll burn

without resorting to mystic fire.
I’ll just burn the way anyone does
when presented with the here and now
of shared attraction. No need

to gussy it up with some magic
you got from a paperback grimoire.
I’m ok being earth without heaven,
body without familiar.

Throw yourself against me solidly and I’ll
push right back until you push me
some more and we feel each other
without benefit of the Lord and Lady’s

heavy baggage. Want is its own
religion, lust its own spiritual practice.
The Wolf Clan, if it ever existed, won’t howl about
how we tangle each other up.

A hand is all you need, an empty hand. Let the crystal
and the athame fall. I don’t much care for the soul kiss
and the melding of our chi. Just give me your profanity,
and that’ll be Godhead enough.