PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[after Constantine Cavafy's Poem, "Since Nine O'Clock," trans. Keeley and Sherrard]

Like a playful poem, remembered with glee, the

image of my adolescent body comes back to

engage my imagination:  the frizzy hair

much longer than my parents had allowed; no

longer clumsy, awkward, or pipsqueak voiced; no

longer beset by the epithet, "Fairy Jerry," no

longer deemed ugly by peers and classmates,

especially the beautiful males for whom I felt

crushes or erotic desire to be naked with them;

all of them shoeless, barefoot or socksheathed;

all of them aware that I was soon to be called

Starwatcher, and that they were the stars that

constellated my soul's sky at that time of my life.

Prone and unclothed, the rhythm of my accelerating

pulse determined the cadence of their soft footsteps, as

they circled around me, their kisses and caresses

coming in profusion as they came to me---

without the inhibitions imposed by silly, societal rules;

coming to me like starlight pouring into the astronomer's

enlongated telescope, until they yielded to the

presence of BlueShift, himself, at last, exquisitely 

naked and eager to lay with me.

Starward-Led