30 Dirty Questions,  EROBLOPOMO,  Poetry


Over the years,
I have watched your body change,
like a glacier adding layers,
the white snow falling
around your ears,
laying claim to the hills and valleys
of your face,
the bright blue of your eyes
softening to grey,
crevices, lines blossoming over time,
an overall roughening.

Your landscape is settling,
harder in places,
more brittle in others.

And beneath what others see
there are the dark, wet caves
of your masculinity,
secret coves of lush growth.
I run my fingers
through your dense forests,
trees still erect and hungry
for the light.

And there are also hidden dens
where hurt resides.
I see those, and love them, too.
Places I have visited.
Places I have helped shape.
Painful rips and tears
scarred over,
covered in brambles.

Time has made you
more beautiful in my view,
not only because of your
familiar textures and scenery,
but because your body
hs been home to mine.


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