For M

Everything about him is masculine -
the beard, the voice, the smile.
How odd it feels to love that, then.

So long, feminine beauty that tended to
my blossoming thought garden.
No doubt in time I will return

to those tender touches that they transmitted.
This one is a new world:
phallic and gruff, a howling dog.

I used to fear it, almost, like all foreign lands.
Tales and woe littering the highway between the genders.
But to fall for you.

Again, again, I let my heart embrace someone
it is impossible to do the same with.
Thousands of miles - my land of snow

and your land of heat.
Combine us, wet perhaps.
Tears or something else (still saline).

And still, I shy away from the thought,
of the imagined touch of your hand in mine.
Trust is our foundation and it envelopes you.

Walk with me, man. Walk with me now.
This is a foreign land and you are a map -
lets get lost, together.