L’Femme Artiste Idéal

How like all men
to put you on a pedestal in Milo,
To see you birthed in sea-foam;
Likened to mine eyes
Venus —
Beauteous in godhood —
the lovely Maiden.

Yet you are Athena —
wise in thought —
but not;
For she warred
and battle-ready was born,
You were not.

Then the Huntress
suits you,
With modesty,
With strung bow —
solely precautionary —
seeking but to survive;
Artemis be thy name?

In future age
shall you transform,
To Demeter —
Mother of nature —
bearer of Persephone;
In Winter you mourn,
In Spring you rejoice,
In Autumn you withdraw,
In Summer you shine.

My Greek Goddess,
dare I love thee?
My ancient ruin,
Impervious celestial being!
Matron of mine heart
I implore you
to destroy me.