GRACELESSLY WAITING

Now, hum, chant, dust off the altar.

Calf's already gutted for slaughter.
All I need now is the priestess.

"Just hold me in honor, hold me in awe,
my fine and gaudy mistress.
I pray you, Make me your god."

But you released me, to wander
beyond the range of my hymns.
And left me here to conjure
you, incarnate, back from a dream.
So, carefully, I detail our temple
with incense to be purified.

But I'm running low on these candles  
while watching the calfling putrefy.