Poetry

A hidden lump was revealed 
in annual ritual. 
You flung open the gates- 
 
to take away the regal pain. 
Was it a reprisal 
for a purple nail? 
 
Withdrawl was threatening. 
In the line of fire 
comes the guilt. 
 
The suicide in the goddess 
womb? Celebrate if 
you pull out. 
 
Floating on the drifting 
threat. The welts will sing 
the erotica.