Gaining Weight Sir Gawain

Gawain say the Gaelic words- say the
celtic green fashion after your
own spherical interlocking
vow- then travel back to the
eyes of your poet and sleep-

I say this to Gawain. I really mean to say it
to a boy
named John. he is gaining weight and speaking
silently dead languages that crouch like
silt by the public dam. John is gaining weight. I look
at new the folds of his belly and

think maybe it was like this
at the fall of Rome and see Gawain in his pentangle outreach
of chaste sky chasing back to the
snowy fields in midwinter-

John is gaining weight. John is dark
and Irish, and his blue

eyes are not at all green in the light. he
touches his neck. he nicked himself there when he was
when he was trying not
to look at his shadow-

at the fall of Rome he must have been thin
and light as a cloth aeroplane,
as a horse that
does not touch the ground