Oh goddess
Let me kneel before thee
in supplication
Arms outstretched
the temple's forbidden smoke
burning in the brazier
is your perfume
How may I best worship thee?

In the summer we shall
paint your alabaster idol
Her lids be the color of bruised fruit
She is nameless in our tongue
but the people called the Greeks
name her Aphrodite

The farmers pray to you for wet summers
the masters beg you let them cling
the dregs plead for full bellies
They do not know you
They do not commune with you
in your temple
and yet they have the audacity to lament
when you turn your face from them

What brings the rain and corn
Is sacrifice and devotion
it is the doorway you enter through
But even that is meaningless
for your beauty is a mask
and you are not your face
or your idol
behind it
is your divine truth, secrets lie there
gods demand beauty in spirit
so if they be hideous to mortal sight
they will still be beautiful
to Aphrodite

So bring the oil
cloying to pillars our garlands
touch our forehead to the cold stone
and lift our spirits
to meet your painted own