The Temple of Our Lady.

Judith Call me Circe, Hela, Magdelene I who am the font of all possible sin. Call me Helen, Thais, Joan, Persephone I who am the gate of ecstasy. Sanitise me with sex and symbol Pound my pain into the loam (This earth is red; it will take but a thimble More before the Old Ones groan). The screaming selkies in the sea foam, Banshees scheming, harpies teeming Like ants over rotting flesh Their bites redeeming— All burnt in a flash of Patriarchal fire And thus the emissaries of the Goddess All expire. Punishment for rape? That shit’s ingrained into our culture And so we see our mother Ma’at as this Unholy vulture When all She wants is justice. What does justice even look like, When you don’t have a dick? Remember Philomena’s Eternal singing night Because of one rapacious prick. So call me whore and Babalon And collar me And wonder why eternity feels small and sad And why the fertile blood tastes bad And act bemused when all your womenfolk are mad Because you caged the best chance at...