Lay small tokens at her altar
sandalwood and moonstones
Swatches of silk and linen
silver chains
and scents
and songs
She is a jealous orb
she wants the toys from your attic
the skeletons from your closet
nothing of value to anyone at all
easily missed
but more precious than gold
She demands reverance
and blood
a sharp cry
in turn for a future promise
the remnants of your soul
in turn for absolution
She is most easily displeased
or pleasantly surprised
perhaps with the proper sacrifice
She can yet be persauded.