Il Divino

Last night I watched his naked body

As it twitched restlessly in bed beside me
A silhouette directed by its phantom captain,

Stretched like canvas across the sheets
Painted in the static blue 
Light of a false moon;

I whispered aloud to soothe him:

        When winter comes

                 The sky plays rhythm 

        The days are gray and

                 Night seems unending.

        Dream of the Sun instead

                 Returning on his chariot 

        Then remember to forget.

In his artificial peace,

From the endless toiling 

A well-earned reprieve

For a man who never stops to see 

He already has all he hoped to achieve; 

Stroking the cool, pale skin
Of my Michaelangelo's bare bicep

I let him sleep.

Though I know what he labors for

Is hard to get

        Love like this

                 Is harder yet.