Which
At the doorway of the cathedral
Where I had come to make an offering
I was surprised to be offered
An offering myself
The choice of two chalices to drink from
One of a golden sweetness
The other of bitterest black
It would seem the choice would be easy
But I hesitated
The goddess who held them towards me
Was blindfolded so that
She told me
She wouldn’t be moved
By the sudden urge to drink one
Or the other herself
That she didn’t know which
Was which was enough
To keep her from drinking either
Her eyes were covered but not her ears
So I asked her how long
She’d been standing there
She told me
She couldn’t remember
A time when she hadn’t been
Then I asked her what would keep her
From drinking from the chalice
I didn’t choose
Since my choosing would leave her
No choice
To which she said
She didn’t know
No one had ever chosen