To Antiochus

by Brett Rutherford

     Adapted from Meleager, The Greek Anthology, xii, 133

Few understand Zeus
who for a millennium
keeps Ganymede
     a happy captive,
his youth preserved.

Is it the way two hands
tip water to cup
from a silver amphora,
or the sweet savor
of never-aging lips?

Now I have kissed
Antiochus, fairest
of all the young men
     hereabouts,
and so, I understand.

Ah, after clear water
from an ice-cold spring,
the soul’s sweet honey.