i. A River Bends
He has eyes like candlelight
blown-out minds finger through, paths
leading them on, those men who
thirst for lust’s diamond tooth
ending up bitten through laughs
he has to use on dim (k)nights
when he wants only to see
himself, when in every
suitor the pursuit ignites
images of something else,
in one of those moments, two
fires consumed by a shared truth
wept a single movement that
time itself had lapsed to sight,
that in my life would only
happen that one night the heat
of which proved that love was blind
to my touch, too white to have
been dreamt of by flesh, yet through
burning bush my tongue-kissed Jew
turned faith into barren hands
too long used to tie so tight
the wandering noose my sweet
lips laid on arid bodies.
ii. A River Flows Over
Laid between a Sodomite
and a Fornicator, love’s
a dialogue made for fools,
an obscene debate but few
other than the angels and
their maker have chanced, a f(l)ight
resembling a dance that we
still tremble from having been
thrown in, telling him that I
had, ‘lost my head inside of
your thighs,’ that, ‘when god wants to,
god makes us find down below
what new heaven god’s hand has
hidden,’ what behind his eyes
called in my dry soul to keep
as kindling, wetting all he
had been given, waxing bright
when he bathed in my darkness,
we went not too high, but drew
too deep from a well we knew
would tomorrow be useless
to extinguish our hell’s sky,
denying our Selves unclean
until mine bled what his leaked—
until I spoke what smoke speaks.