Geng Jiaying
Saturn has returned: the moon waxes above the curling vines fire licks at her face - she stares, unmoving, into the flames. the beasts, fled from the mountain bow below her gaze, Intoxicated, aggravated, frenzied — The night flickers in their eyes. The women leave their houses, Roused from sleep, in haunt, bleary eyed, naked spill their hair over their shoulders drape fawn and leopard skin over their bare thighs, And dance. Tonight the patron god feasts! Blood spills with wine, they bound over the shattered meadow feet trampling over the drunken dead. Moonlight tears at their calves: bewitched by a manic rhythm faces rosy and brittle hand intertwined, voices as one: No passion as divine. She touches him tenderly, a loving mother (a tear slips past his cheek) her hair is flowing, crowned with ivy and oak, blood crusted on the sides of her feet sobriety in her eyes: she cradles him in her arms. Then she bears her teeth and bites. The grapevines are in full bloom.