sometimes I kiss a goddess

the prayers escaped my lips and the gods told her my secret: "I miss you all the time"

Before I think of her body I inquire on her spirit
because I can tell when it's her
and when it's a different soul
that passes through the walls
of my ancient halls.

I can tell when her love has traveled far,
or if I am simply returning to what I'm yearning,
I know when she's someone else
unable to clearly see me
because I court all her tells.

There is a constancy of spirit that I always see,
and if I don't—I cannot bless her erōs 
so I resist returning pleasure sealed in dotes
until I know it's her who believes in hope.

I know a goddess when I feel one,
and I know her divinity in my bones
like a mortal's instincts for serenity
even on the days when I'm alone.