Comforting snow sifts as flour at your tolling <br />soft feather down on iron clamped shut <br />sunlight touches the crystals <br />language drips from the icicles of your friends <br />their words flash in the winter light <br />fall to touch the hard iron below <br /> <br />Gorgeous lovers <br />strange moonflowers <br />as fine as fluted glass <br />carved chalk <br />his violet flowerbud lips cushioned against the varnished box <br />drip syrup against your maleness <br />fingers stroke imaginary thighs <br />to whisper profanities against your flesh <br /> <br />Delicous girls <br />touched by your innocent dreamings <br />reclining in the soft down of your memories <br />the safety and intimacy of your domain <br />opening in secret places <br />their dreams and wings <br />whispers and stockinged toes curling in your warmth <br /> <br />Father <br />held iron cold against his son <br />who dared open his soft lips to such a boy <br />stamped and ground out of his kingdom <br />uprooted as a weed <br />now grips the box and howls like a wolf <br />that his loins could hold such impotence <br />grinding dry dust knuckled against the hard walls <br />clamped in male iron <br />untouchable <br /> <br />Aunt <br />numb <br />that an angel so pure <br />could sin so well… <br /> <br />Creaks the snow melt creeps between the iron clamp stone soil <br />caresses the shell of the seed within <br /> <br />so begins the birth of the woman within the man<br /><br />Anthony Dalby<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-neil/
