Pure Dionysian, I fostered no conviction

on the nature of Divine,

but she insisted I hear her theory

of how God should be defined


“You see,” she said, leaning closer to me,

“we’ve been taught that God is male

But she’s been woman all along,

reverse of scripture’s tale”


“Creating woman in Her likeness,

man suffered when compared

to the power and beauty

God and woman shared”


“To compensate this lack of form

God gave man the thought

he should rule over woman

and be ignorant of the plot”


“But now the time has come,”

her finger told my face,

“to reveal the ancient secret

of her omniscient place”


“That’s fine,” I said, quick to show

I’ve worshipped Her from the crib

“Genesis had it wrong for sure;

She tendered Adam’s rib”


What puzzles me,” I made a frown,

“is that imp in Eden’s tree,

the sly seducer of them both,

who altered us forever with demonology”


“It seems if woman patterns God, so too must Satan;

then Beelzebub becomes Betty, and Lucifer, Lucy

Who else would have the sweetness and the charm

to make an apple seem so juicy?”


“No wonder,” I rambled on outloud,

“Mephistina’s more fun than God;

no inquisition, no penitent knee,

no boring, glum synod”


“Note the fiends of Gog and Megog

dance away the spring;

they bloom the pods of passion

and let hot desire sting”


My companion cleared her throat, nonplussed,

at this sum of all things cloven.

“What you describe,” she sniffed, “if I hear you right,

is but a witch’s coven”


“No, madam,” I clarified, “I merely match your thesis

My creature’s neither saint nor shrew

Let’s grant to God what belongs to God,

and give the Devil Her due”

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