**** you Aphrodite
and your longhaired, perfect-bodied ways-
you ruined the art of individuality
when you exploded and washed me away
You inspire and impassion men,
with your welcoming body, and wanton look
leaving your counterpart grasping, holding, desperate
to a man whose very breath floats to you.
You put her to shame-
aware for the first time that her thighs brush, ******* quite small
she rushes to cover what she is not...
her hair is not flowing golden-
she's not like you- Aphrodite-at all
After you, come your twisted daughters
expanding beauty on a runway or a screen -
a pretty face, a photo shopped image
for less, he'll make you his queen
Your picture pushes others to a mirror,
reminding them of every ugly, and spot they wish to cloak,
for by compare their beauties lost,
for by compare how could they hope to measure up...
So **** you Aphrodite,
and your ethereal taunt to all the women who will never be you.
This was originally written as an ekphrastic piece based on Sandro Botticelli's "The Birth of Venus"