So maybe just maybe it was a little bit
on purpose, maybe my perfume was the rose
oil with which I used to anoint red candles
and dedicate the rite to Aphrodite, the deity
I worshiped faithfully before someone told me,
mouth full of pussy, that there are other gods.

At the first clap of thunder I shed
my robes and tried to fuck the whole
pantheon of male divinity stretching back
to Napoleon because everyone knows
magic is war if your intention isn’t sculpted 
out of love or at least infatuation.