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You Were My First |
Death came quickly for you, disturbing
Our invincible youth, from which
Sprang the fountain of your disease
Unnamed, still untamed – a trap of ignorance
Associated with the lost generation
We, so ridiculously sure of immortality
Invincibility the cause of it all
Your skin went from bronzed and smooth
To a splattering of Karposi’s bruises,
you were
So frail, so white, so thin, your mustache the
Only wing of your fine-looking handsomeness
That was left, black and thick as a coal brush
Quickly, your hair became thinner, falling
Lush clumps of Italian lava from Etna herself
And soon, you were blind as a Franciscan bat
Still insisting on taking me for a wild ride
You said you could manage, but I had to
Pull the brake as you parted pedestrians
On a buckled sidewalk in front of your house
We hurtled through the seas of disaster
As you shouted, “AHOY, Ahoy, ahoy,”
In your most commanding Byzantian edict
You sailed toward the Golden Horn, and
I tore the wheel from your beautiful hands
copyright 2016
Viola
Weinberg |
