Written in an undergrad pub at Western during my extended tour for my History and English combined Honours degree.  I'm still not sure why it is called Wisdom and the Sorceress but maybe someone else will figure that out :) 

Wisdom and the Sorceress
 

Aye, aye," says the wise old woman.

 

As she slips her feet into cherry-red siren heels,

the black skirt slips further up her thighs.

And the wise old man enters the bar to wind his way

towards the corner where the wise old people sit.

"Aye, aye," says the wise old man.

As he slips his hand up her nylon-encased thighs,

her legs fall apart on the stool, hard and wooden.

And the wise old man smiles as he winds his way

towards a goal that wise old people share.

"Aye, aye," says the wise old barkeep.

As he slides a glass of ice across the counter,

the black skirt and the wise old man are caught

in a deadly battle for the wise old woman's thighs.

And the wise old barkeep turns his back

and watches in the wise old mirror,

as the wise old woman smiles at him,

through the looking glass.


 

Fiona Mackintosh (© 1992)

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