For Brian

Writ­ten in 1999

you still live there cupped in the mind’s hand
like a warm dark place I crouch in when the
hunger is too great a sweet crisp scent that
imbues me rolls down my throat into me
a sug­ar rush to meaning’s vac­u­ous
with­draw­al and I dwell there my body
trem­bles with the life of you the charm­ing
over­bite the sweet dim­pled skin the soft
intel­lec­tu­al stom­ach the wit and sick rare
warmth that radi­at­ed crooked-grinned and
brown-sparkled into me and me burst­ing
and gig­gling sex­less petals open­ing
invit­ing my only virtue then my sweet­ness
my total devo­tion to every morsel that
graced my thirsty lips every touch vis­cous
and play­ful every moment in that house
that smell old and musty but so deli­cious­ly
you-smelled years lat­er Max howl­ing on
your bed and me inhal­ing the scent of your
shirt regard­ing your pic­tures of man­hood
estranged and des­per­ate to have known you
to have had you taste of me ripened to have
had those last emp­ty ashen moments (fate­less
and cru­el) annulled by some­thing rich­er
nev­er­the­less I am con­tent to have your life
eter­nal and light-rid­den pock­et­ed safe­ly
a sweet balm a self­ish trib­ute to childhood’s
suc­cu­lence a dark reminder to drink of oth­ers’
cups open and brave and swal­low­ing whole

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