What good can come of you, Eros?
Aphrodite’s rambunctious son,
Smiting breasts with heat, you have done
Some unfortunate mischief to cross
Me up in heart matters, to gloss
Over the sad results. You’ve spun
Incendiary webs, to stun
A romantic, all to my loss.
There should be laws, some prohibition
Against Gods aiming unwanted bows
At my affairs. Intervention
To send you packing.
The disasters you’ve caused!
Eros, no more arrows!
[John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in Paterson Literary Review, Southern California Review and Natural Bridge with work upcoming in the Kerf, Leading Edge and Louisiana Literature.]