POETRY

In the Garden of the Old Gods

We Worship Pleasure

Photo by Azrul Aziz on Unsplash

Remember when we once worshipped the same gods?
—before the touch of Self
was known?
—before we defiled the tree’s
only fruit?
—bowing reverance to pleasure,
to gods anew.

We opened wide the fertile soil inside
our Garden.
Our sacred lives watered with wine,
slither-twisting,
tasting the honey of the divine
lost to lust.

Remember when we used to confess
our sins?
—wetting our lips to prepare
our words.
—to part our center, to divide before
conquering to enter.
—to sacrifice the inner one
for the tithe;
—for a few seconds more of the
little deaths of life.

We writhe
in the tightening thighs
of our new gods,
our new gardens,
our eternal prize.
We sacrifice
for Pleasure.

—agod