PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Kalain was the name on the small signboard that hung from a

rope around his neck.  He was slender and delicately built,

his adolescence in full blossom.  A profuse of soft, sable

curls cascaded on either side of his face, over his shoulders and

down his torso and his back.  His limbs were perfectly

proportioned; his face, exquisitely expressive---so that his

abject terror (so often present during the sales held in this

kind of warehouse) was not only obvious but palpable.  The

Poet was disgusted that such beauty was being so crudely and

uncouthly commodified, so he waited until the highest bid had

been called, then doubled up---striking, into the other bidders, a

resentful and even petulant silence.  He directed the handlers to

treat the young man gently; to remove all the accoutrements of

slavery.  Relief, and something more joyous than relief, began to

reveal itself in Kalain's shy smile and his intense gaze.

Transported to the Poet's farm, he was already designated as

exceptional---not to be deployed to the fields, but to remain

(despite the overseer's unspoken objection to the favoritism)

safely and comfortably in the main manor house.  The chambermaids

provided him a bath; and, already cognizant of his inclination

"that way," they regretted that they should not be able to

arouse him.  They combed and perfumed his glorious mane; and, to

his surprise, they shaved his shapely legs to a perfected smoothness.

Then, they draped him in the skimpiest and most immodest tunic 

they could find.  Later, in the evening, he dined privately with the 

Poet who invited him (only if he so decided) to join him in the

master bedroom, upstairs, with the huge skylight open now to the

already constellating sky.  And in the soft glow provided by the

fragrant candles, he found---waiting for him on the sumptuous

bed---a pair of stockings, woven from golden Koan silk, perfectly

translucent except for the opacity of the doubled weave at the

heels and toes.  With enthusiastic delight and a most respectfully

careful effort, he drew them on to his body.  Then, utterly

overcome by a sense of gratitude---mingled with the need to 

love and be loved according to the nature that thrived in his soul---

he offered himself to the full satisfaction of the Poet's desires.

J-Called