soul of aphrodite, flowing as
soft, warm spring rain into me
as you grow nearer, into a tiny
stream to course through me,
finding its way to the depths and reaches.
you wash over yourself, o
goddess, swelling as the stars appear
aloft in the summer skies, gently
tumbling to delicate white-crested
peaks and falling over rocks and
into beds as you search in me
for a sea, becoming even now a
river enough to carry your growing
swells and cool wetness in the
still-heated summer’s night.
o sweetest of olympians! you have
washed the dry deserts from my earth
and have flooded my veins. the river of
aphrodite pulses through me,
and i am alive again
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