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Night frosts. Fettered gales. Sauna sun rise. Steam

fit for queens and concubines. After school


you came, brought her with talk of romps, extreme

and droll. “Not in her rump,” was your one rule


as I slipped out of you. “Only in mine.”

All day the sauna’s pine walls soaked up heat.


When you two arrived, frigid as frost’s shine,

we puffed and passed, shucking off our clothes. Cheat


ice-sleet like this. Mellow lay, they say. Stoned,

you laughed when she impaled herself. I laughed


when you kissed the spot where the two of us

joined. She laughed and came. Others have condoned


this. Meh. You asked to learn my queer witchcraft;

craft built from libertines and the Goddess.