Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry, homosexual, lgbt, queer

Aphrodite

Aphrodite

I aspire to death as one waits for a lover
when waiting becomes no more than an
empty passage of time and place, an empty
theme written on ancient parchment with invisible ink

I aspire to death, as one waits for love, which
does not attend at this late station, I wait relentlessly
for the gift of death bestowed, and petition the
goddess, Aphrodite, born from the foam of the sea
her beauty, the gods feared, would lead men to war
when they desired peace, as I instead desire
release

Aphrodite laughs in her passing, granting
not her graces as she crosses the gilded heavens
in her swan-drawn chariot, gliding easily through the air
laughing at we mortals below, but I wait for Hades
to take me to his kingdom, that he might set me free

love comes foolishly to youth and death comes
painfully to the aged, while dreaming silly thoughts
at the end of the spectrum, dreaming death could be
as it was in that first bloom of the rose

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