Worship

In the dark temple
rumpled sheets form mountains
and valleys. 

In silence
my goddess
awaits
her humble devotee.
Our lips move together
in a holy litany
and my fingers pray
a rosary on the ivory of her skin. 

Gently, almost imperceptibly,
she tenses,
knowing, anticipating,
my sacrifice. 

My eyelids bow
as Eden opens,
milk and honey flows,
the goddess reclines over the altar
and I enter the Promised Land.