May 11, 2022Hyacinth in Heaven Wondering Why He Had to Be First
for he was the first man to love another
—Bibliotheca of Pseudo-Apollodorus
hyacinth was the first gay man so he was the first gay martyr,
of course. he was into other stuff that other gay men are into
like, other men; flowers blossoming
from your blood as you lay dying;
being mourned and adored and reinvented.
what makes a man a martyr if they didn’t choose to die?
hyacinth and apollo were playing frisbee in the park when it happened
how pathetic. a jealous god
disguised as the wind blew the frisbee into hyacinth’s head
hyacinth collapsed with the sun in his eyes
a new wetness at the back of his head
his life fading cradled in apollo’s arms.
hyacinth sat in heaven, wondered why
he was killed when things were just getting good
was it because he was so beautiful
even the wind wanted nothing more than to hold him?
were the gods jealous or just bored?
an olympian writer’s room
of course the god of wind would be jealous
when he had to compete with apollo—all corporeal and not-windy.
have you ever tried to hook up with wind? it’s hard
too poetic
hyacinth sat in heaven, desperate
his gift of prophecy now a curse as he saw he was just the first
of many. saw his name used by secret police in poland in the ’80s
to round up homosexuals and force them underground
saw the bodies that wouldn’t become flowers.
hyacinth sat in heaven wondering why his death was all people wanted
to make art about.
hyacinth, tired of breathing in
dirt. of being an empty shell
others can pour themselves into.
instead paint me in love and alive
paint me changing bedsheets and arguing over dinner
paint me throwing tantrums and climbing mountains
paint me picking flowers and making plans
paint me still
warm.
from #75 - Spring 2022