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

Passing Time

Passing Time

To Peter Kostos:
thank you for the darkness
thank you for the light

at eventide, we walk arm and arm, you and I
across the strand, as twilight descends, the
stars oversprinkle the sky, fireflies blinking
in the deepening canopy of night
the incoming tide swirls round our feet
white bubbling foam rushing round our toes
the ebb of sea erasing our footsteps, vanquishing our
presence, we were never there, outgoing tide
wipes away our having been as the hourglass counts
the hours of our lives, relentless grains of sand dropping
through the funnel counts our days and hours
relentlessly counting

I wished that I were young again, that we might
travel this road through time, you in your world and
I in mine: you are the moon, rising now in beauty, I
the setting sun, fulfilling now my journey
I wished that I were young again, full of lover’s
passion, filled with simple grace, yet Death
surrounds me, my boon and constant companion
fair-weather friend

Death, sups with us, he breaks our bread
we drink dry his proffered chalice, the pungent
potion rife with toxic magic
Death’s attenuated body dressed in somber black
his bony hands with fingers waxen tapers
his cold cold hands leave burning traces upon
the faces gently he touches
his luminous face is beautiful, his huge black
and staring eyes saucers rimming with tears in
that exquisite pale face
icy lips proffer his name, Death’s kiss, lingering
on those he beckons upon their sweet lips

he wraps us in his mantle, dazed as we are
his narcotic potion sipped from his silver chalice
bids us, as with his hand raises us up, above the ground
we pass through valleys verdant and lush, hushed
in the dimming twilight spreading, o’re mountain peaks
with crystalized jeweled caps shimmering from Diana’s
enchanted silvery light
soaring we rise above the oceans’ might roars
quickly plunging deep beneath silvery lakes
breaking their surface without a ripple

at last weary and complete, he drops us to our beds
you in yours and I in mine, we sleep, til morning’s
light comes a’calling, we wake from Morpheus’s
slumber deep rested well, body’s aches rejuvenated
the mind’s cares erased
we return to the living, you to your world, I to mine
you in the bloom of youth, your future spread before
I to mine where Death’s presence goes before
you go unto your world, with sadness I to mine
yours a happy future, a well-trod path laid at your
feet, mine an encroaching reminder my descent
to hell is sweet


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