To A Garden Priapus

 by Brett Rutherford

     Adapted from Anonymous, The Greek Anthology, vi, 22

To Priapus, his due,
these things
the garden yields up
in his merry image —

The new-burst sphere
     of a pomegranate,
          spilling seed,

a quince boy-beautiful
     with finest down,
the alluring fig,
     skin ever-wrinkled,

grapes fat and tight
in purple clusters,
ready to yield
a flood of wine,

walnut just out
of its green rind,
testicular.

Rude god carved out
of a lightning-felled
oak, accept these offerings!