© Sauce*Box, Fall 1998. All rights
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Sauce*Box Fall 1998
In this mind-scape--just above a faint whisper--
you shine like the marble neck of Athena.
Unbidden in the field of your fruition,
I dreamt of your efflorescence, when no harm
would have come for me simply to have asked you
virility's flesh-born and trembling question.
Then, perhaps, I could have unveiled your silence,
and sustained the velocity of your zeal.
Even now--you transcend the mask of my world,
inducing this river within me to pour
like Poseidon's precipitate dive upon
the lad re-born in the Cauldron of Hermes.
But now--regret leaves me without your imprint
a wanting seed of unborn consummation.
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