Poem for David

raising the boy

till my forearms

cradle his legs,

and the sweat

of our brows,

necks, and hair

mingles

into a solvent,

liquefying

inhibition

into a pool

at my feet,

I consider

Saul and Jonathan

mingling the blood

of the Philistines

in hard,

battlefield embraces,

each grinning

and weeping

to find the other

still alive,

or old Isaac

inhaling

the delicious,

earth-odors of his Esau,

caressing

the red hair

of his pride,

and I stand,

grinning,

weeping,

inhaling,

caressing

the boy,

wordless,

stilled by

the rhythm

of my own

easy swaying,

our unified

breaths,

and the

devastating delight

of the oneness

between

fathers and sons

(2011)

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