This is where I find religion.
Under dim, spinning lights.
In surrender to the beat.
Sweat dripping, flicking, from whipping hair-tips.
Hips grinding, winding, asking any who dare to watch if they really thought I would sit quietly.
I weave my prayers through the music, given over to the gods.
Supplication, revelation, sacrifice.
My body is my sacred text, my breath the Holy word, this dance floor, all dance floors, my temple.
Come pray with me.
More poetry with commentary and comments in “Twisted: Honest Reflections of a Kinky Witch.”