Beneath the sultry night's constellated array,
Tarcissus---lovely in his blossoming adolescence---
loosened that cascade of soft curls, his long hair;
then, adoritly and eagerly. he put
off his sandals and cast aside his shirt
(to certain prudery's prejudice and inhibition,
he refused to give the slightest deference):
bare, above and below his shendyt, and barefoot,
he proved once again that his body's sensual beauty
(including that yet hidden, but rising, tumescence)
served to express, most closely, the condition
(by the unobservers unnoticed) of his soul.
You love him ardently (so unlike your arduous duty).
To your nature, and his, that Love is no mere preference
but a vital force that you both have embraced in full.
Its satisfactions no poem of mine can adequately convey.
J-Called