(for AFB)

and so one morning i came down to this:
him laying there in the half-light,
his nakedness barely creeping from under the cloth,
face frozen like seraphim in stained glass–
and i, who would lie down in the filth of the ages;
recalling other times, places, temperatures,
and temperaments,
thinking fondly of times less distinct,
i might then have closed the door
to forsake the cold life outside,
covering his familiar innocence
in a blanket of warmth
from my heart–

but, knowing that the dawn would come,
burning away the frost of silent times,
and thinking of the heat of such,
i turned instead to face my day;
a kiss in my mind’s eye
(pure as snow yet to fall)
was left on his brow,
as i returned to my duty
in the unclean world.