Poet T.R. Woodruff
© Copyright, T.R. Woodruff, 2010.
Reproduced with permission to: Main Street Magazine/Rain Enterprises, from T.R. Woodruff
Goddess
I had never touched a woman
with an immortal beauty, & while
what I know of goddesses
wouldn’t satisfy the curiosity of scholars,
something in me summoned up
the archetypal figure in my head
of Aphrodite.
With your long hair, exposed
breasts silhouetted & I watched you enter
moonlit waters, that pale reflection
distorted in the rippling pond,
your flesh an eternal glow.
I asked you if you were real, your stare
declaring war against my body,
while untruths filled your eyes like inky pools,
swirling with obscurity, your lips
whispering promises to the darkness, perhaps
even to me.
Come! you said when first you took me
into the glistening midnight pond, rippling
rings spread outward. You in its middle,
standing nude, waist deep.
Softness, your tender skin
cleansed with an earlier rain, gentle—
—locks of hair
caressed the midsummer wind,
like a child’s giggle somewhere off in the distance.
Grey mist twisted from the surface of the water
I was afraid of you, afraid
of your embrace. That I the liar & you the thief,
would lead us into trickery, into deceit
I knew my flesh betrayed me
to you in that moment
your pale radiance the prison.
I surrendered to you,
your sexual shape, my sexual lust, & the writhing creature
our bodies twisted into, yours equally strong—
the proof of passion,
small scratches on my skin.
Goddess! I said out loud
to the hooting owl & trickling fish,
I had to read your lips above the crickets, whining—
My tongue swollen in my mouth
kissed midnight dew drops from your skin.
In the water, as we embraced
in the wavering reflection of the moon,
you kissed me hard & with a smile
said, You are a surprising lover!
I awoke in the moist earth, stuck against
a stone & mud soaked stalks.
My feet touched the pond.
You, the goddess I loved hard, gone & I tried
to shake the image of your nakedness
from my mind,
but my body collapsed into the soil,
slurping muck, my own nakedness
my lust & lost underthings.
Whether we loved under the moon
or only I imagined you on your pedestal
that night, there’s no telling.
But something made me wonder,
that you touched me before I got there. Let me to believe
you were with me all along.
About the Author: T.R. Woodruff lives in the Midwestern grasslands of Missouri. In the spring of 2010, he left behind more than fourteen years of corporate America to pursue his passion for words. He is wrapping up his MFA from Lindenwood University, holds his MBA from Webster University, and plans to pursue his PhD in 2011.
© Copyright, 2010 Main Street Magazine/Rain Enterprises
As seen in the October Issue of Main Street Magazine.
Printed in Canada, ISSN: 1920-4299 by Rain Enterprises
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