Liebstod
(“Love’s Death”)

By: Madison Cole
(© 2008 by the author)
 

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I stood last night watching lovers

beyond high terrace doors

            a curtain of gauze keeping them

                        unaware of me

            the young men made love

                        on a carpet of green

their bodies moonlit gold and shadowy violet

 

impassioned sweats of summer

cries of lusts

            well-timed

            their cries and kisses,

                        for they were lovers

            they knew the things that pleased

 

tautly muscled

            summer bronzed

beautiful

            erect

            proud

for the while

overcome with

            youth's desires

 

noises came of passion's moments,

            groans of sweetest swearing

            curses of endearment

of love and lovers

fulfilled and belonging,

            ever if for that moment frozen

among their times

            of heated lust

            and wonderment

thrusts of pain and pleasure joined;

my heart ached

my spine trembled;

            my mind spun backward

to an instant of purest clarity

 

it was

            a long ago love

            and me

as we were for only

            that certain springtime

            lost now in memory's mists

            and shadows

            time's tapestry of

                        perfect loss

 

the veil shielding me

            from the lovers

is at once

            both curtain

            and shroud

no longer cloth

            but cloud

 

though love lives on

            both times has gone

                        both the lovers

                        and mine

 

it is no more

            a dark hot evening

            of southern summer

beyond the terrace

            but cold and bitter

            ice

in a house

            toward which I turn

a place with a thousand rooms

            all hollow

                        nameless

            soundless

but for my single footsteps

the dwelling remains dark

            with

            ferment and regret

 

I turn again to the pair

            to invoke my

            autumn's benediction

but they, of course, are gone

            for no longer is it

                        a summer of sweat

            and forbidden breezes

it is winter now

cold winds have come

            I stand alone

            a perfect snowflake is all

            that kisses my cheek

                        and I realize at last

            the seasons are altogether

            … over …

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Posted: 07/11/08