Line Up the Young Men of Kos

by Brett Rutherford

     Adapted from Meleager, The Greek Anthology, xii, 94

Line up the young men of Kos
(the gods know they stand about
like apples in a market stall!),
and I will demonstrate
my varied tastes, and how I lack
that crude possessiveness
that mars so many comrades.

It is not as though
one wears them out,
for, laughing,
they come back for more

of our admiring glances.
Our kisses scar them not,
and we are not like
some fierce lizards swallowing
them head first. We carry books,
not ropes and nets, we dine
amid their company, their
fathers nod to us and smile.
Are we not all Greeks?

Is Diodorus there
not fair as a gold sunbeam?
See how the lines of eyes
all follow Heracleitus
until they can see no more?
Watch all heads turn
to the musical tenor
of sweet Dion there,
tuning his lyre for show.

Watch Uliades: he has
a way of making his chlamys
part just so: those thighs
will reach the Olympics!

Friend Philocles,
    take your fill.
Soft flesh invites
the tribute of touch,
so long as good manners
and a compliment
accompany.
Look to your heart’s content
where all are looking. No lad
ever fainted from being stared at.

Speak if you have the courage
to that one, there, alone
in the shade of the portico.
He merits attention and might
be a poet someday. He might
say yes to you
since you have books at home.

See how free from envy I am.
I have had my share, some
more than once, some
I could hardly get rid of.

What’s that? Which one?
The sun’s too bright for me
in that direction. No,
Philocles, look not on him.

That is Myiscus. Off limits.
Don’t even think of it.
Avert your eyes. Not him.
Cast greedy eyes that way
and you’ll be as sorry
as one who saw Medusa.