It's hot down here
It's bitumen grinding in the clay
It's fume in the pores
It's a steam cracker

with a chimney
filling itself with ethylene -
under the stopper, the navel
of Mother Earth, until in

A new star month
A sacred show begins
A woman is led to the stool
A man opens the navel under her

solemnly puts it down
under the canopy and the priests
stand out of the smell to listen
with feigned attention

She is intoxicated and raves
She is in a trance of ignorance
She is getting light-headed
She is losing more and more brain cells