Like a Virgin

I am the Virgin Goddess. Somber and poised, standing ever still and devout, deliciously looking down, demurely demoting myself from one thing to something else, from exalted to meager and humble and still. There are advantages to this act, to this countenance, this mantel of purity I wear. Some advantages. We all put faces on, whether painted on, glued on, tatooed on, whether in clothes, hair styles, speech patterns, we all display, present. Strutt, cower, wither, wilt, glide. In movement, how like a song. In body, how like a goddess. I love this picture of me.

I am the Virgin Goddess, pure even after childbirth, as if these things of the body were a sin. Sin, sine, sansa. Without. Without ignorance, whole and ripe and full with wanting.