Tribal Women

The drumming begins,
beckoning moonlight,
channeling wind.
Medicine woman squats,
her hands crushing fruit
smearing it on cheeks, breasts, belly
fiercer than any warrior.
The tribal women dance,
stomping, hooting,
hair swinging wild.
Pink tipped breasts breathing their first,
Pregnant bellies, anointed, adorned,
Vein mapped legs stomping.
Teeth bared,
eyes crying,
laughing,
the dance goes on.
Spinning dervishes,
twirling by fire,
lit by stars,
the ululations rise.
Wolves tuck their tales
with longing.

Copyright 2005.

poetry