there is a large hand unfolding
above me, discreetly
it conceals a black man
surrounded by a thin tincture of green
like the moon eclipsing the sun
I am to give obeisance to him
and his firm brothers lurking in the gardenÐÐ
they strip me of my childhood casually
with the relative calm of a standard play,
the rising action, apex, and dnouementÐÐ
in the formation of sleepwalkers
they withdraw silently into the past
commentary:
no one can explain why they came
to shape the hidden aquifers of your life,
but it is here, on Fountain Street,
where you first stepped out of the unseen
cathexis
upstairs, my uncle relived his boyhood,
looking from the garret window
to the tree he had been tied to
and into the corners of the yard
where his impulses formed
he drove us to the pond
by the frozen reservoirÐÐ
my brother became pallid
as animals do when divining pain,
and we clambered out of the cab toward him
we undressed in a snowbank
waiting for him to break the ice--
he circled around, motioning to me
I conjoined with his hammer
poised over the immutable sheen,
though I was only a boy
and could barely anticipate
the future blows of initiation and affection
commentary:
affection between men
has always been
circumscribed by pain
here, in the balance
between love and brutality
lies the origin of sport,
the first act
of civilization
femme inspiratrice
she waited under the stairs
in the basement where I learned
to feel and see without the advantages of light
she held me tightly to the ground and I complied
with the conspicuous duties
she created for me
I drifted to her daily, down the damp steps
and found a love in her remorse
that I could not find in myself
there she lay in the old air, suspended
in the dark webs under the stairs
whispering to me
when I slept, and pleasing me
the inevitable
a man runs in the rain
toward this small house
the window clouds up from his breath
even though he is a mile away
his silhouette begins to blot out the moon,
beads of water race down the glass
he will exact something from me, I can tell
as he slips down the hill, muscles tensed
desire
it begins in childhood
with an awkward moment
behind the house
then shatters outward, exploding
into adulthood
here one collects fragments
and reconstructs the face
of the large boy who touched you
but the eyes are always missingÐÐ
only the lips remain,
directing you downward
infidelity
a large dog fills up the backyard,
the children are afraid
to leave the house
each night, the dog inhales
and exhales,
its muscles contract against the walls
the dog's warm breath fills the attic
as its teeth push slowly
through the ceiling
the room dims,
the lining of its black lips
slides gradually over the windows
1974