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My words are lascivious prayers, priestess,
and my temple lies in fiber optics,

cyberspace. Sexting is the new Venus,
our ars poetica. Other matrix

only repeats standard universal ––
baby, aam gonnae make ye buck an’ bleed.

None of that pleases. Through wire and crystal
I weave spells just for you. What do you read?

Words, words, words. Our prayer. I know that you feel
magic at work. We cum with strange forces,

phlebotinum and nasty sub-routines.
Sexting reveals what others must conceal.

Temples wide as the world web. Priestesses
unprogrammed. All these sacred smut machines.

Like unobtainium, in science fiction, phlebotinum is whatever made-up technology the lazy author has invented to keep the plot going. It’s magical pixie dust in outer space.