They say the gaze of the gods

makes us visible to ourselves.

Once I watched a doe

emerge from a sage and yellow hillside;

my eye caught

and the cadence of grass and leaf

became at once

a narrow cheek,

a delicately muscled ear.

Did she look down then 

and first discover

the tender brown of her

slimming leg,

the finely crafted hoof?

I wonder -

what drew God's eye

the day I blinked and 

swiftly uncovered

a calloused heart,

the pitiless bend

of my once

intemerate lips?