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For the Perfume

I thought She was woman 
but She lets Her mortality slip 
and I see the goddess  

Other women are fakes  
She alone 
is worth worshiping 

She finds me human 
My praise amuses Her 
My flaws are all I see dancing 
in the mirror of Her eyes  

She's wrapped 
in a mortal sari 
Modest of Her perfections 
Doesn't flaunt the cosmos 
because veils drive a man wild  

She made the seasons 
to show Her mood change 
It's clockspins 
calculated by sextant 
yet seems coin flippant  

She made spring: 
for the perfume 
Summer: 
to recall heart's swelter 
Fall: 
for the threat of life without Her 
Winter: 
a hint of Her wrath of silence  

Every kiss 
is a prayer offered to Her 
not just a curiosity 
for the taste of Ambrosia 
still on her lips 

Every intimacy with Her 
a sacrifice 
of more than's in me  

Each worship is a devotion 
to the goddess 
feigning she's woman 

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