Physkoa sat opposite her God
wearing a gown of pure white linen,
a black belt round her curvy hips
and a red blindfold covering her wide, cowlike eyes.
He cupped a bowl of wine in his hands,
and tenderly held it to her lips. “Drink, my beloved.”
She drank.
Next he put some juicy grapes between her sharp teeth
and whispered, “Eat.”
She ate,
as serpentine Kissokemes stirred within her breast.
He took her by the hand,
and placed it on the sheet before her.
The sheet had been dyed,
swaths of three colors meeting at the center
in the shape of a dancing triskelion.
Upon the sheet were apples of gold,
a goat’s knucklebones, a bronze mirror, a doll,
a bullroarer and other such trinkets.
“Take,” he commanded, less a lover
than a Lord now. “Take, and I shall make
you the first of womankind
to serve me as my priestess.”
And she drew forth the unquiet clackers,
Krotala who purify and heal with sound.
And she wears the spotted fawnskin
and sacred ivy-crown in Dionysos’ honor to this day.