Sifting through these photos of you,
Five years now passed between us–
I feel stricken by how boyish you appear:
Red spots dapple your brow,
a testament (perhaps) to Southern climates
or certain cruelties of youth,
and hormones.
I even now remember how the passions swelled
in you, back then;
Embarrassingly–as always seems to be the case
in such hindsights–
Just as i cringe at the hairstyles, the expressions,
Awkwardness i fear inescapable.

Here now, this black-and-white:
On its back reads,
“Pride weekend
2002
Atlanta, GA.”
This i remember well. It was
Piedmont Park;
We were rushing from one party
to the next,
When someone called his name
and his head turned
–snap–
The last weekend of his life
captured in this moment’s ephemera
(Strange and timeless in some way
which compelled me to contemplate this glossy
for hours)
yet i do not mourn the loss of that moment,
Nor of that younger man.

How many hours is it,
That i have studied your body in candlelight,
Watching shadows play off the curves and lines
which were never there before?
Colors dancing as the flame flickers
and light leaps upon the inks embedded across
This strange skin–
This stranger’s skin–
Our eyes meet in the cool glass once more.
Would i have known you in the bad skin,
I wonder,
In those sweltering Southern summers?
Would i now be struck speechless,
rendered dumb by a vague and nameless shame?
Will i be unknowable to you in the future–
another five years, another city, another lifetime?

Brightly burning fire stays lit inside
as i blow candles a kiss
and curl up with questions, and
sleep to dream.