Aphrodite

The goddess is imperfect.
Her sad

Career, as Helen's pimp to pleasure Paris,
Beggars a sneer of procurement.

With testicular potency
She soars

Strident from the birth bed of a scallop cradle.
Her firm

Compacted breast shimmering
From the strain of a watery delivery.

Conception, birth, death. That
Dispirate trinity, without the scent of sex,

Degrades the meddlesome goddess
From Boticceli's giant scallop

To the armless Venus de Milo. She,
The blundering warrior,

Jill of all trades, mistress of none,
Sees the delusion of her beauty fade, but

Denies the frailty of the false judgement
Proffered by the procurement of Paris.