Monday, January 30, 2006
Spoliarium
I did what you told me.
I slowly removed my shirt
like how you always wanted—
as unhurried as the sun rising:
bit by bit.
crawling—
from my torso—
to my shoulders—
up to my arms.
You ran your fingers
on my chest,
and you lingered on the
convexes of my skin—
pressing,
sailing gracefully
like satin sheets
on my warm
sweaty body.
Your hands fell
and paused as you reached
a dark corner—
grandstanding was the mountain
that raged at your presence.
As still as the shadows
—you—
who glowed splendidly
in this darkness,
stared longingly
at the monument before you.
“Good lord,” you whispered.
With such great devotion,
you worshipped the icon
that stood gloriously—
from summit to foot.
You firmly gripped
your earthly idol—
as your lips
opened and closed,
touched and kissed,
throbbed and rubbed
of what seemed to be
a totem of great men
put altogether.
My body trembled
as waves and waves
of blood surged
underneath the
mighty flushed flesh
that you've kissed
in an eternity.
As you ended your prayer—
your head still bowed,
your knees still bent,
your icon still clasped
between your hands—
you moaned your songs
and called all the saints.
Whereas I, sang the psalms
and exploded like a volcano.
In my room, 1:30 pm
(01/30/06)