Friday Mornings/ Lovingkindness

A ringing of the bell, and I was inside.
A golden retriever to greet me: eyes alight,
flaring nostrils on a cold nose sipping the air.
New smells, well-learned tricks--

a loving obedience.

You fed me. You poured drinks.
The rear door slid open, and you led
me to your garden. In a place whence
you'd once been culled, you showed me things growing--

a loving patience.

We lingered in what light could reach us----
branches burgeoning, new green, warmed skin
(yours much nuttier than mine: pale, fair).
I close my eyes and I still hear birds--

a loving singsong.

----and soon, slowly, we wandered back in.
Undress. Embrace. We smelled like men.
I tried to assuage your every ache. Did I? Tell me:
you whimpered into my mouth as you came.

Like the night I caught you watching:
tell me, do you remember that too?
I close my eyes and I still hear the din;
Your gaze, that look, from across the room:

a gem in my head (hebephrenic, deleterious).

18.2.014 Jiva, to Room, on the eve of the Eve of Leaving

I have put pieces of my Self in here:
there is a toxin
within
me-- coursing, piercing
as we speak.
(My pupils are huge; I am so in love.)

Soon, I am to leave.

For eleven years (this June)
you have absorbed me;
there are pieces of me in you: floating.

Whatever psychic resonance that's in me,
I hope to leave a memory
within these walls, painted (but loved,
and Oh! how you were ador[n]ed)
so tritely.

I never meant to scar you with such secrets--
and now, on the eve of my Leaving, they're no longer a blight to me;
hold tight, if some semblance is to be left remaining.

My vision flutters.

And in between the sharp bursts of New Light:
the Old Nothing.

(no Being.)