Solstice Poem by Paige Nielsen

Sitting cross-legged in the bathtub,
I commune.
My inner nature? Or some arcane
Goddess of the moon?
Am I being reborn?
A Venus, naked, made of the sea.
They say the moon rules the ocean.
Moonstruck, moon-kissed,
This lunar madness overwhelms.
A Venus, but not quite of Willendorf.
I am not a slim, treelike girl.
I am rounded, voluptuous,
Like in the paintings of the romantic age.
I have reached my romantic age.
But my perfumed, pale, soft skin
Is too rubenesque for the modern times.
The candles’ blurred glow transforms.
Incandescence in manifested heat.
Heat like that in my gaze.
Ripples in the water, distorting my thighs.
Candlelight suits me.
As does moonlight.
Goddess, I am not.
Lover, yes I am.
The elements have spoken:
We are one.