The Ascension of Venus

bloody, sanguine, severed
from the body of my father
i fell towards the sea,
a wine-dark glint in the first rays of

dawn broke as i hit the water
as the sea foamed around me on the crests of small waves
and i was born

__

I,
Kyprogeneia
Cytherea
Aphrodite Ourania

__

i took my first steps upon the shores of Cyprus
sand sticking to my salty calves
flowers sprouting at my feet
i was still aglow with creation

i was born already grown
it seems a tragedy to have missed growing up
i like growing so
and there’s so much i had to learn suddenly – violently – about the hunger of men
my birth the subject of fantasies,
of pink skin and flowing hair and innocence.
i was born already a sculpture;
it’s a tragedy to no one but me.

i walked across waves, climbed rocky cliffs, sprinted through green meadows
delighted by the sunlight and by life
enamored of the wildflowers

i scaled Olympus and greeted the gods
and they welcomed me

they fought for me

i was brought into the world by blood
and blood has been shed for me
swords thunderously clashing

no one dares tear my skin with glinting blade
for fear of leaving a scar on perfect flesh

men have devised tales of my jealousy and cruelty
lies spun in silver
about a girl who wanted this­—
who schemed for this—
i don’t recognize the paintings of me

men have made a sculpture of me
and pressed the pads of their fingers into the stone until it darkens the marble
and slowly slowly i am worn away.