Let me see
his hair was
a bramble
of dark curls
his eyes were
large ovals and
always resembled
a deer in headlights
his cheekbones were
as high as the Alps
then cascaded down
the concave of his cheeks
to his smile which never
frowned always laughing
Let me see
he was
infectious.
Category: Growing Up
Sun
The sun
here wakes
me at quarter
past six hidden
by a disorganized
gang of clouds
I can’t see the sun
except when it peeks
between the slats of
grey shutters
It’s rained here
daily saturating my hope
of sun with mist like Seattle
This is paradise I’m told
but paradise before or after the
apple
Friends
We began
as bulldozers
backhoes and
graters
in a box
filled with
sand and
imagination
We found
ourselves
catching
each others’s
eye
at a dance
in a new
sandbox
Loving Men-Fixing
Fixing
his hair
I blend
wooden fingers
through
night time
waves
Fixing
his tie
pulling
draw-cords
on curtains
wooden fingers
tighten
his knot
Fixing
his smile
dabbing
corners
for crumbs
wipe clear
his smile.
Loving Men-Him (Rodrigo)
His hair
like fur
my fingers
tangle it
like poorly
wound yarn
His back
like the state
of Wisconsin
is broad atop
narrow below.
His tie
like an obstacle
or hurdle
finally loosens
by my tugging
drawing him
near, knotted
silk, unwound
it’s a sash of
triumph
His lips
are my medal.
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 