Divine Woman

What could possibly be more holy

Than the divine woman in my arms?

She is religion,

made of love and skin.

it is in the scent of her neck,

the curve of her thigh.

I would let her sacrifice me

to the Gods of our love.

I’ve watched her do it,

and it feels more like praying

than every word you’ve uttered

to venerate your own lies. 

I am celestial,

the first female angel.

I fly to the sun

on the breeze of her sigh.

I feel no pain

given to me

by the will of your god

who makes no mistakes,

yet made her fit

so perfectly in my arms.