ganymede

him
half mad half a sea captain
/and aren't they always/
endless breath of a continent in one
who has trod every path it
offers, yields to a keen eye
to a keen hand
to a keen heart
one whose heart splits
easily and willingly
one who gazes from depths

since cradle i have known his soul

he pours elderberry wine into
two glasses
the taste sweet and pure
like sunlight
his hands like roots of an oak tree
a sycamore
an ash
a birch

i put my hand on his knee
struck suddenly by the thought that
his divinity ought to go
acknowledged

but he prefers we be
on thee an thou terms
with one another