Ritual

To don a garment fostered by the Gods,
Was like a see-thru nightshirt when it shrinks.

He was resigned to live a life abroad,
To be on call, for sex without the kinks.

There was an amulet between his legs,
That he would never let himself retrieve.

Encouragement denied, and never begs;
His worship had a plan tucked up a sleeve.

To covet the Almighty of its want,
In knowing me, he knew the way I think.

He held me up to sanctify the ankh,
As one approached a shrine within a chink.

The ritual became a nightly court,
With chanting, and a Nubian adore.

Supine on altar stretched, his little mort,
While I as Priestess played the jealous whore.

In day’s first light, the worshipers depart.
The boy, the man, the slave, it’s him who bows.

Comes to my bath, and offers me his heart;
“I’ll eat that first”, I grin, “and then the cow.”