Artemis
There’s nothing goddess-like
about those moonbeams
silver glowing arch
not of your back
soft and inviting
but of your bow
cold and piercing
silent slayer.
There’s nothing to adore
within your face
gleaned from marble
glossed immortality
as you condemn with
opal eyes.
There’s everything wrong
with my animal lust
stag in mating season
wanting your body
more than life itself
denied by your
virginal lock.
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