The Beast

 by Brett Rutherford

     Adapted from Leonidas, The Greek Anthology, vi, 262

There was never enough meat for me.
Night after night the flock I slew.
By day I raided the cattle-pen
and sent the herdsmen running.
The howling of dogs did not deter me;
     by fang and claw
     I reduced their number.
(Unfit to eat, I left them
     for crows and scorpions.)

One night as I crept silently
toward a sheep-fold,
Eualces the Cretan
rose up and killed me.
Just like that!

Now from this pine I hang
     and rot. Winds
tear off tufts of my fur,
     and birds annoy me.

Each day there is less of me.
My shadow, four legs in leap,
a terror for all, thins out.
Now no one looks up
and cries, “Lion!”

Things Abandoned to Hermes

 by Brett Rutherford

     Adapted from Julianus, Prefect of Egypt, The Greek Anthology, vi, 28

Sparing the fish from
     this day forward,
I, Baeto, old and trembling,
leave everything to Hermes —
the rods, the oar, the hooks,
a weighted net as large
     as any man could handle,
the floats, the well-worn creels,
even the dark stone, fire’s mother
from which I brought that element
to warm cold nights ashore.

I am done with the sea, done
altogether, so here,
to make an end to sear-faring,
I bequeath you my anchor,
the one true thing that kept
my unstable craft in place.

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!