Agape (Book 23, Patroclus’ Song)
Jo Clark
We are boys again,
wild as the crocus
that will carry us away
like Zeus once did.
Our skin
soft as the petals,
limbs jagged as
cliff rose—
elbows pushing down
the earth so we may
see each other.
No thought of flowers
we’ll turn into
when the gods
bottle our blood
on the battlefields.
Surely Hyacinthus
is not the only one.
Our hands clutch
Narcissus,
uncalloused, yet bearing
death along the lines.
If I could run my index
just across your palm
I would feel the day
your breath stopped.
If I could kiss this
hollow of your throat
I might still taste
the arrow. Look
at us here. Imagine
we would one day
hold spears so sharp
I can still feel the point
piercing my belly.
Oh lover, most beloved,
and best of all Greeks,
did you know through
every layer of Trojan
stone, this one of ours
is still warm?
Jo Clark is a student, poet, and journalist born and raised in the Blue Ridge Mountains. She is currently pursuing a double major in poetry composition and Medieval and Renaissance literature at the University of Virginia. She is the poetry curator for V-Magazine at UVA and a senior writer for The Cavalier Daily. She has been published in The Stardust Review and Prospectus: A Literary Offering. She has work forthcoming in Q* Anthology. She hopes to one day release a full-length collection of poetry.
