It's hot down here
Bitumen grinds in the clay
smoking in the pores
of the steam *******

The chimney fills
itself with ethylene, under
the stopper, the navel
of Mother Earth, until in

a new star month
a sacred show begins
a woman is led to the stool
a man opens the navel under her

solemnly puts it down
under the canopy and the priests
stand out of the smell to listen
with feigned attention

She is intoxicated and raves
She is in a trance of ignorance
She is getting light-headed
She is losing more and more brain cells