Priestess

The dry heavy heat of the endless desert
Has not yet smothered the streets
Open to the wet breath of the Euphrates
The earth awaits the plough
The planets are aligned
In a perfect balance
Amidst blazing torches and smoke
and stifled breath of decrepit clerics
Amidst fervid glares of libidinous guards
Slowly I rise to the roof
Of the zikkurat E-Temen-An-Ki
To perform
Our annual drama.
My beloved
You are ravishing tonight
Golden leaves in your hair
And honey on your skin
What do I care about the roar of the berserk crowd
And the scornful glances of your concubines
The tremor of my knees
Shakes the steps of the lower temple
I am coming to your call