Observer of a Boy

We met when you were crying

now we meet when you are smiling

(We´re not – meeting here

We just – met here)

Eyes like blazing torches, glinting promise in a silver crypt,

Sweet chin in a tilt, bright mouth receptive

Your smile, your wave, prompted only by me

I am der Schauende, der Alternde – and you are he

the three bold syllables, round sweet round

two young, haughty, full marine brows

the Eastern boy spoilt to the death

dancing his way between deckchairs –

blue chairs –

those three syllables; you are one and the same.

Save for his consumption and your vigour ruddy –

save for your crystal honest wish to please –

round sweet round; you are one and the same

careless, guileless, heedless, greyless

dapple-headed Apollo, play with the Devil!

Call him nearer – I want to watch you,

want to near you, see those gentle hands go

How they move, how they fly,

quicksilver burning in the light of you

Now I watch you, now I feel you

Now I drink you, now I breathe you

with your smooth arms and your wide mouth

you cut me up and yet feed me

you are half what I am

but I am half what you are

Six seeds are twelve and you have the whole of me

I move inside and your gaze is mine

I am mute, I am breathless

this is senseless – this is reckless

yet I am

not quite strawberries

not quite cholera

not quite trailing you through the maze of darkness –

I am more.


you beseechingly up at him: the love is tangible

he strokes your hair, you close your eyes

gently, gentle.

he coaxes your cheeks into how they are best

only in return a teasing snap of the teeth

(I am not the only one who loves you.)

he moves his knee and your head falls back

onto him, onto his seat, onto his trust

(I am not the only one who loves you.)

nothing but a perfect love,

a perfect unspoken circular trust,

(I am not the only one who loves you.)

May he adore you and thus may you thrive

May not the advent of years ruin you both

May not the rough steel shove of

bygone smoothness

tear you asunder

for you are

what life is:

not to be sullied

not to be ruined

never to be taken apart.

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