VENERATION

You’re naked, but you feel you are attired
With priestly garments, ritual conceit.
Your masculine devotion has inspired
This sacred act you’re eager to repeat.

You reach the holy altar where it waits,
Inert, amorphous yet, but ready soon
To rule again, to incarnate your fate:
His resurrected phallus, fate and boon.

You kneel, you have the honour of reviving
This relic that is moulded as you press.
Your faceless lord’s redeeming rod is thriving:
You know well where to squeeze and stroke, caress,

 To give new life to mud, virile, venereal,
 To make the flesh become divine material.

Ernesto Sarezale, 2000-2004
www.sarezale.com
sarezale(at)yahoo.com