My Address To Hephaestion
I lead you then
to the top of the
beholding the web of
city and plateau
this is not for stars; no. this is:
at the cusp of time and past or
now you are asking in a small voice
that is unfitting to your leonine build
"those golden steeds of my youth"
I have no response. we
have fooled one another
long enough that the closer
we became to the folding
dove night innumerable stars
bearing plot and place we
what it was you had been born to and the mountains rising between our clasped hands. you said to me
"once not all the stars had names because the myths were still unwritten, the heroes unfound and now such a wide expanse of known. he would not have enjoyed it."
and it is always that.
I murmured a reply
but it was lost to the smoke
ringing your fine head as a halo
would. as if that imagery made a
bit of sense to you
angels were nothing
heard of or known.
and here colliding
into one another over
alien landscaping fresh black horses
bejeweled in the Persian splendor:
and now that the world is once again longing to be conquered, we pressed to the underside of the sky and it is enough tragedy here.
enough so you say "it
will be you and I"
while shaking your head and
weeping on the inside
of your noble eyes
"go to him"
your body beneath the tunic
your armor left strewn about the floor of my flat
your wounded eyes your scar of sickness everything
"I would love him." I would
that is the statue of angels and saints seen from
a hill and tower circling this city that you would not believe
in: all the lions he
built for you across the desert conquered by horse tread
and sobbing men
"You are he. One and the same"
(and he takes my hand and he takes my eyes
and he jumps into that embrace of runaway Time)
"Go to him"
to all the lions he built for you across the wide dariuseyed persian desert that has seen many men and many stars names since the black-
wild horses thundered to the egyptian godsands