PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[inspired by Constantine Cavafy's poem, "In A Town Of Osroini,"

trans. by Keeley and Sherrard]

(for Tommy W---, October 12th, 1961 to April 1st, 1994)

A month has past since they brought to my

residence the dead body of Didymus, and I

told them to carry him---so very gently---to my

room, and lay him upon my bed.  My housekeeper

washed and anointed him, and removed the clothes

bloodied from injuries sustained from a fatal

chariot accident.  The hard impact had knocked the

sandals from his feet; so that, when I entered the

room, now illuminated by the enlarged full moon's

gentle light, he was entirely naked, restored to

his natural, unmarred beauty.  When he was twelve

years old, he declared his love for me---although

I was then twice his age.  When he was fifteen, he

offered his virginal body to me; he invited me to

his most private and personal intimacy.  For

almost ten years, we loved each other as a couple.

Our tender lovemaking was ardent and adventurous---

no imposed prudish inhibition interfered with either

his curiosity, or his urgent need to be loved and

pleasured.  Like Emperor Tiberius, over a century

ago, Didymus wanted to be a scholar of ancient Greek

Poetry; but of erotic poems exclusively, and only

those poems that celebrated the homogenic Love

between curious adolescent boys or the same

between adult men.  As I stared at his dead, naked

body, now caressed by the moon's shimmering light, 

I remembered the fragrance and flavor of his

sweetness which, at the peak of pleasure and the

sevenfold surge, leaped from his aroused 

jewels through his lofter that released and

delivered it on or into me.  And in my mind, I

heard again his soft sighs becoming loud

moans, and his breathing transformed to quick

gasps as his orgasm rose and spread throughout

him.  But my career intervened, and the Emperor's

clerks insisted that I accept appointment to this

Prefecture, although I held no military rank.

Didymus was unwilling to accompany me, and I

dared not refuse the Imperial demand, especially

because of an unhappy lover:  unhappy lovers had

been murdered, or caused to vanish without further

word, if they obstructed imperial appointments.  As

these memories rushed, unbidden, through my mind, the

driver from whose chariot Didymus had been thrown, was

brought into my presence, after I exited the room and

closed the door so that no curious eyes or perverse

gaze might disturb my once Beloved.  The charioteer

had not been visibly injured; just tossed about a

bit.  He feared that I was about to order his summary

execution; but I assured him that was not legal, and

that it would have displeased Didymus---therefore, a

decision I would not make, and not even consider for

any possible reason.  Then, I inquired where in this

vicinity, Didymus had been going.  The man, with

tears in his eyes, said, "Excellency, he was coming

"here; he wanted me to bring him here, to you, as

"speedily as possible . . ."  

J-Called