What Does a Goddess Look Like?

She is tuberous terracotta,
She is golden twins,
sacred violins,
nappy triangles tucked
at the meeting of thigh and belly

snakes swung in the air
arms raised in prayer
or folded over chests
lustrous leaves of bendable gold
made into crowns and honey bees
double-headed axes, echo of butterflies
transformed in the cocoon of her womb

seals of gold with the goddess
holding court under the tree of life
floating over the couple in sacred conversation
pro-cessing toward the priestess

Our great mother of the grain bin
responsible for growing the wheat,

What does a Goddess look like?

She is old and rests on the rock,
feet braced apart,
hunched in grief
arched in anger
Hands smashing stones
against the iron feet of thunder gods

She is regal
mammals mounted on her skirt
grapes clustered at the collarbone
breasts lined across her chest
lions on her arms

Our great mother deconstructed
into male fantasies and re-gathered,

What does a Goddess look like?

The flow-stone of Pammakule,
The Dicteon Cave of Psychros,
The dunned plains of Anatolia
the fruited plains of mid-America
The quaking aspen,
My lover’s hand

What does a Goddess look like?

Her silken hair-robed majesty
standing on a sea shell
children balanced on her many breasts
milk, water, mixed with blood
in barreled belly folded flesh
round red vase

our young mother pulling patience from the air
bedraggled hair
the women stacking shocks of corn
legs scratched by chaff
the women making love in dreadlocks
sweeping floors sweating summer heat

What does a goddess look like?

She looks like you,
she looks like me,
she looks like us joined
in sacred conversation.