PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[after Thomas Mann's novel, Death In Venice]

[[Jaschu, loquitor]]

We---Tadzio and I---are (really!) lovers.

A certain man or maybe that man's twin

declared that we have had a falling out:

that, in itself, would be a grievous sin,

and not at all what our Love is about---

which old prudes always fail to understand.

The tourist to this pristine shore discovers,

quickly, how finely ground all of this sand

is---crushed and pulverized from ancient rocks

(I do not know the science, but only guess).

During daylight, we are mostly barefoot,

and walk along the shoreline---hand in hand,

and, when aroused we sometimes pause to kiss.

By dusk, as stars emerge, we will have put

on finer clothes (our usual dinner dress

outfits).  But afterward, we meet outside,

having kicked off our polished shoes somewhere

(again, long-shod old prudes think us amiss)

Sheathed in purple and blue semi-sheer socks, 

our feet (eager to move, and quite agile) just glide

over the sand, still warm (from sultry weather),

as we explore this real romance together,

this perfect pleasure two young men can share.

J-Called