Waking in the morning is joyful for me.  Your morning hardness pressed against the small of my back, your heavy leg over my hip.  Your heavy arm crossed over my heart.  I could stay buried in your cocoon of hair and muscle.  

The time between your visits is dream-like and unreal.  You are no ghost coming and going.  The intervals are ghosts.

My pain is an after thought.  The pleasure you inflict like quick bites of a rattlesnake.  Then fever, the swollen lumps, scratches over bruises.  Ah, the bruises.  It is all an illusion.  It does not matter.  I cease to exist beneath you because your pleasure and your rage are the only things that are real.  The rest simply falls away.

I love it when my own life ends.  When I am taken without words as you strip me, violate me, squeeze your blood and fear inside me.  
 
I would fold into you, close my wings.  With my head on your rising and falling chest I am beyond the comfort of the womb.  The place of utter manhood at my Master’s side.

I would sacrifice everything to be there when you take your final breath.  I would warm you.  When your beautiful old body finally began to grow cold, I would usher you to oblivion.  

I know only one of Daddy’s secrets-- his fear.  His terror not to let it show.  Let me take your pain away.  I live to be beneath you, under the weight of your long life.

No pain or sorrow there.  Only a release from grief.  I would honor every wrinkle in your old body as they faded, as you faded, as I faded.  Until I am nothing but sleep.

Copyright © 2002-2003 Alexander Renault. All Rights Reserved. May not be re-printed in any form without express written consent of the author. Do not copy or post.