Temple

The moon is no longer my goddess.

I praise Venus with every judder.

My body is a hymn to Cupid;

He is in its arches and secluded pathways.

Each crescendo blasts my mind to whiteness.

Who will join me in the temple?

A hand will skim mine as we present our offerings.

Dutiful eyes, obedient lips,

Voices synchronising in prayer.

Our devotion will be irrefutable.

We will shed worldliness

For a spasm of enlightenment.