i had a whisper of a dream
that i was a priestess *****
and ritual ******* was the norm
so i got on my knees
before the swirling painted legs
of the Indigo Man, whose brutality
was unmatched, whose lust was unrecorded
save for the whispers from crackling fires
of peat and smoking women,
soot covered brows and hairy legs
banded torcs encircling throats
used as holy receptacles for the children
they could not afford to bring life to
in the bleak nights under vast stars above
marsh lights and howling screams
from invaders as fierce as monthly aches
and menfolk's savagery against nature
among the savagery of the wind and sea.