Often Man

Finally
your body has come to bloom
but
my small body can still hide you.
Your roughness,the aftereffect of us.
Your wilderness of the tame.
Like a man at a game.
The you in the avogadro movement,
visible only to my eye,
beneath those tendons.

Sometimes I wonder
how different you are :
from a baby,from what you were,
from the growing man and the growing child.
from the growing love and the growing lust.
from pain and from pleasure.

And
sometimes I wonder.
How same the face of your bare,
crawl and clench.
like my clutch tugging at my hair,
Both tuck and the yield there.

And
in this pucker of a man
how same the grace,
of a baby,
of oblivion to find peace only in my embrace.