Sighs

To covet, sighs,

a covenant between spirit & flesh.

Eyes come

eternally mortal to that rhythm:

Pelvic, pubic, the moan emissions

between your eyes above mine

as sex & sensuality meld us to one fluid,

bone marrow, the extremis…

You know that knowledge is terrible,

death’s phantom a phoenix to the fusion

of our shadows & the winged brilliance

where, life to life, pulses feed sickness or DNA.

Love, feed the thirst, the hunger desire

decides on. Choose passion as breath & we

wave in the ebb, the flow of that domain…

Here, first eddy, flushed then waxen

tallow, flame to wick.

Come, come again, I’ll hide no sighs,

being charcoal to paper

rubbing an imprint.

—

Stephen Mead is an Outsider multi-media artist and writer. Since the 1990s he’s been grateful to many editors for publishing his work in print zines and eventually online. He is also grateful to have managed to keep various day jobs for the Health Insurance. Currently he is resident artist/curator for The Chroma Museum, artistic renderings of LGBTQI historical figures, organizations, and allies predominantly before Stonewall: https://thestephenmeadchromamuseum.weebly.com/.