Hymn to Aphrodite

Black Aphrodite

fills Her doorway

with swaying breasts

and Neolithic hips,

jiggles when She bends

for the milk.

Scrawny Aphrodite

shows an armload of tattoos

asking waif-like for change.

Rings in nose and eyebrow

glitter like quarters and dimes.

Anything would help.

Aphrodite in the morning,

when the world is calling,

is warm against my back,

Her lips touch my shoulder

until the world is silent.

Aphrodite with a thousand cats

reveals Her dentures to the world.

Her skin is as wrinkled

as a newborn baby’s.

Her cats are Her children –

are Her lions – devouring the sun.

Aphrodite is hungry.

He dresses in drag

And haunts the clubs.

Because gods travel in disguise

He keeps on trying.

Aphrodite, in Her living room,

swallows.

I came from the cavern of Aphrodite.

I breathed Her ocean perfume

in the womb of the world.

We crawl across Her belly

to lie between Her breasts,

to suckle Her life then expire,

breath from Her lips.

copyright (c) 2011 Daniel J. Bishop