Maria Bascunan
1st place, Senior Category (15-18 years)

Zeus thinks Jupiter should be named after him

amongst other things. Both z’s
can only be fitting for a planet made of gas
and floating rocks, lightning flashing
across its murky surface, a surface
worthy to be named after

the king of gods. From his beard
recently drunk honey-wine drips
as he poses for yet another vase,
another temple, another renaissance

masterpiece. But frankly, he’d be happier
with an insignificant star
named after his greatness than having Prometheus
eternally suffering – the moon mocks him
with a sideways grin and the sun
watches empathetically, for its name
can’t be traced to any deity

of the Ancient world. In the ancient world
no one thought of poor
almighty Zeus. In the ancient world
the streets of Pompeii were filled with laughter

and food and smoke, a premonition,
a call. In the ancient world
pyxis are just pyxis
a vase is just a vase.

The air in Olympus smells funny
Zeus looks back to his cup-bearer, to the planet
that was never named after him, to his feet,
to his grandmother Gaia below him. He frowns
but quickly relaxes when he feels the honey
tingle in his throat.