An astute smile friezes time for a while.
Invisible as reefs before the ritual
two or three ithyphalluses* flicker in the background.
Scattered giggles pave the way
the most unexplored for everyone. Diversions, what else.
Dionysiac cries compose a convenient rhapsody:
“Even the gods twist and turn.”
Well, they change opinion and personality.
They have this virtue.

Good for the poet!
And we, mortal friends of pleasure, ready for roles
to show ourselves somewhat divine.

That we look like games without resistance,
do they see us as beings without resistance?
Let it be. No one ever is
what others see, whatever they see.

———–
*Ithiphallus: the phallos ancient Greeks carried in festivals.