DANCER OF MONT ROYALE

He stomps
Sandy skinned
Dragging floral silk wrapped
And cinched
On his youthful
Swaying hips
Browned long arms
Raise and twist
As curled serpents
Making slow love
To strange stringed music
And drums
His eyes roll
And rest closed
Turns and steps
With soft hair
In sunlight
In dust
In abandon
Very much a man

I drench him
with my vision
I cannot
Afford his colors
At the foot of the mountain
Where they take arms
Of paper and wood
Fighting olde battles
Didn't you hear
It's time for you to go?

I should have taken you away
And loved you hard
In a deep bed
But passed
desiring not know the timber
of your voice
knowing this was a moment
I would remember to my grave
As this promise
Would die
In blankets which twist
And tie me immobile
By your sweet weight
Pushing the breath
From my voice
And nights where
I would not depart
You are so remarkably lovely
the only I have ever seen

What a painful jouney's step to go

by Chantall Çollet