Her Marble House

 Sitting on the temple steps

I dare not enter.

To defile the place of Venus’s presence 

Is truly the worst of crimes.

But how will she see me?

How will she know my name

And that my prayers go up to her

Every day

Every night.

Does she hear my cries? 

Here amongst the cold carved stone? 

No,

How could she?

Why would she?

In the end I am just a thing

A golem of vanity and envy,

Of hunger made flesh.

She her pick, 

Why then bring a leper into such a place