you had the voice
and body of a goddess

the kind
worshipped by natives
in the thralls of
their drug-induced
dances

they prayed
that you would
feed their lands
and
give life
to their crops

they sacrificed
virgins and
children and
their enemies

you taught the birds
how to sing
and
the day
how to be beautiful

your lips were
the entrance to
heaven

how I worshipped you too,
silently, in the moonlight
when I awoke at two AM
like I so often did

your hair would drape
over your eyes
and
your face
would seem unconcerned
so full of love
ethereal
not of this world

a sight that would put me at rest,
lulling me back into sleep, but,
as the native heathens learned,
not all gods are meant to be gods
and good worship is scarcely
a guarantee of good  fortune

your folly lied in everything
that made you perfect

your detachment
your care-free-nature
that you were a goddess
trapped in a mortal world

though I grew
and stretched out my limbs
upwards towards the sun
there was no way a mere man
could teach a goddess
how to celebrate
all this beauty
she had made
possible