I attend the challenge of week 4 of @TheInkWell (see here) with a poetic exercise (in the contemporary mode) that focuses on the second option: the goat, in an ironic play on the myth.

Avatars

His skin had protected
and defended the power of the thunderbolt.
He suckled, like a wet nurse
with his milk, to the tragic god,
and saved him from death
with its hirsute nature.
It was the embodiment of desire and pleasure
in the double creatures
who walked through forests
after young runaways.
Or the god of ecstasy and pain,
in which we recognize ourselves
for being like him,
being a bunch of vines,
is also a sacrificial goat
like the one with the crown of thorns.

From the dark blue
a star follows us
and it reflects our paradox.

Thank you for your attention.