Bloodline

In that old story, the boy is depicted as delicate,

lithe, and beautiful. Ovid had it wrong.

Yes, the boy was beautiful, beautiful enough

to capture a god’s attention, but he was not

delicate. He was anything but delicate,

his muscles toned from working the fields.

Listen to me; the gods are fairly conventional.

A lovely woman is transformed into

an old hag, a too-slow voyeur becomes

the quick stag to be chased and shot through

by a single arrow. So, in the case of this young man,

he must have been strong, anything but delicate

like these flowers. The gods are convincing

when they need to be. Believe me, they are

honey-mouthed and persistent. The boy

had to be strong, but he was not stronger than the gods.

He was seduced; who isn’t seduced by

immortality? In the field, the boy was every bit

the archer as the god. He was just as powerful

with a spear, a slingshot, or a discus.

Ovid writes that Apollo loved the boy,

loved him more than any living thing

on this earth. But we know better.

The gods love only themselves. In the field,

a clearing ringed by trees, the boy did not

try to catch the discus. He was running from it,

running from the god who took pains to aim

so as to slice him clean through with a single shot.

You see, this is not love. A god commanding

spilled blood become delicate blue flowers is not love.

Source: The Halo (Four Way Books, 2016)