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/.