To his altar on the first day she brought
glances, half-lashed, alluring,
and then later her perfume
dancing behind her, heels clicking

Her company was next, and
the coffee was more bitter and made with as
much conviction as the conversation
she offered

She hadn't meant to brush fingertips so soon,
but when he passed her the dinner-
plate she had rose-coloured
nails as an oblation

Silently declared herself with onetwo straps
slipping from pale shoulders shifting
under his hands (her body, her blush) and
lips wet with gifted ambrosia

She wouldn't yet devote her heart,
(having experienced the
capriciousness of idols past)
but waited in hope for a sign of faith returned.

He reasoned through her scepticism by counting
rosary vertebrae in half-light with head bowed,
lips moving downwards as in prayer, until she acquiesced
to that which could be stated for the first time once

and proved

again
again