Lave
I’m as old as the hills, but once I was young,
And my boy defeated me.
I worshiped his eyes like the sun and his voice like the shallow stream’s trills,
But still he cheated me.
So I hid in the ancient crags where I was born,
And still remain,
And swore to sew up my heart where it was torn,
And never to love again.
I saw that man is flawed. So I collected my tools
And stole the right part
Of the crag and made a new man by my own rules,
And out of my own heart.
Slowly, gently, surely cherishing I clipped
At a palm or a thigh,
Or blew gathered dust from where his sweet navel dipped,
Or gave life to the gaze of his eye.
He lays calm while I stroke his supple skin
Softer. Night and day I hear his sighs.
I sand his throat. And listen to him sing.
And he gazes back into my eyes.
I said 'One day he will be mine. He’ll live forever.
His love for me
Will surpass small human love. He will never
Leave our island in the sea,
But stay with me and slake my thirst and feed me,
And by my hand
Stay beautiful, and for his being need me.'
But I spoke all these words all that time, long ago. Now I am old.
A tawny sack on a stick.
Above me, my monolith, my boy stays eternally young,
And true, and cold,
And I grow colder.
