Mythological Rape Painting

I hate this stuff, that the rapist is a god is such a boring
part of the story. The gods are fucking with us, that’s
the moral? Our hands in the air as we’re grabbed
from behind. No one rides a horse in the nude, and still,
it’s not an invitation. I don’t want to look at the fat half orbs
of our breasts trying to leap out of the scene, our voluminous
hair flying behind and whipping together with Zeus’s
aggressive curls. The horse has a horn, which really, we get it.
Our faces held to the canvases of rape paintings
in museums all over the world. We wouldn’t have missed it
anyway, our destiny. Bearing children, demigods, who will
ruin and be ruined by the world in equal measure.