As with all his lovers Zeus had only

Eyes for him. Somehow the pouring water

Did it for him: nothing lovelier, over

His comely chest, covering smooth shoulders

With a glimmer, stardust in motion:

A sound of peace. And so the god,

So full of mortal fire, sought to smother

That flame within him. So as Ganymede

Wet his brow, stretched like an ornament

And resembled his own amphora, he just

Allowed divinity to overflow him,

Shadowing his tensions, gracing his skin

With profanity divine. Did Ganymede

Struggle, roll his haunches, arch his back;

Make like a victim? And did Zeus adore him more?

We know that Ganymede was one of many, though

The only chosen, then: we only know

That as he overpowered the boy this god

Still begged, still pleaded him to hold tight

His cup, tend to his wines, his earthly

Thirsts, to reflect in stars what once

He lit on waters; and that the young boy acquiesced.



I mean, what Zeus did was not ok. 


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