will i be
can i be
shall i be
how can i be
worthy of thee
sanctified enough to lay
my hand in the thatch of your thick black
hair
with flecks of grey that had come even by twenty and
can i
be holy enough to lay my hand upon that chest, run it over
that breast covered in dark hair netted like steel wool
still was soft, soft, soft
to the secret place
and the secret smell of granymede's delight
soft to the secret, woodwind sighs and your lips
firm kisses,
the hits and misses of a beautiful boy, otter sleek and slender
rendering love like a beaver cleaver
all as american as apple pie
or as sex in a summer bed ;ate in july