Just one, of Adonis, of Ganymede
carved from maple wood, dipped in sun-honey,
a chiselled, Michelangelo glory.
Oiled Greek torso, anointed one, our seed.
Sculptural, hard to deny, to concede
your body, your bright tones, your effigy
praised by all holy, scaling heavenly
high melismas, blessed with a strength we need.
But the Gods graced the world wise with your youth,
YouTubed it, captured every flippant gaze,
lost soon in the mirror like Narcissus.
A young boy warped by his own hard-earned proof,
feuds of ego and immaturity,
poor twenty-first century Juvenis.
—
Colin McGuire is a poet and performer from Glasgow, who lives in Edinburgh,
has written and performed relentlessly over the last fifteen years, building a
reputation as a dynamic, engaging (and sometimes challenging) performer and
poet. He is the author of three collections; his first self-published collection,
Riddled with errors (Clydesidepress, 2003), his first chapbook, Everybody lie down and no one gets hurt (Red Squirrel Press, 2013), and his first full collection, As I sit quietly, I begin to smell burning (Red Squirrel Press, 2014).
http://www.colinmcguirepoet.co.uk
Impossible Archetype 