Hermes & Dionysus at Olympia

When I first saw a man 

back muscles whetted to edges, 

I lied when my mouth opened 

in the shape on an ‘O’ and 

cloth rushed from my agape lips. 

Homoeroticism came from the spot 

on my thigh, made my body 

flush with apprehension, my heart 

elated like a boy lifted to 

the arm of a pilgrim. 

When I think I imagine tomatoes 

picked from verdant soil, juice 

dripping from a prick 

in the skin. I pull grapevines 

from my thigh, weave them around 

a man’s forehead, and we, 

alone, turn to stone.