He Sleeps (For Blaine)

For Blaine (1987-2003)

Soft prints work to glide over tiled keys

both salted and peppered in tradition;

I am lost by the leading of chimed voices

and before I can find my way, I am led directly

to him. Trained teeth assembled beneath

bulging pink lips, somehow, seem to

find me first, and the rhythm in my chest

forgets it song until it is seasoned in sharp chords

and the pain creates a new beat. His suit

mimics the tradition and beneath it is cold flesh

that burns to embrace for too long. Moist drops

fall to thaw its biting sting, and they continue

for quite some time until both eyes

are milked tirelessly. The soft prints lose

their grace as aggression meets grievous tones

tremoring with each strike, and all is given

until they softly turn to bid adieu. He fades with

each passing note and I am left to wait for him

as he sleeps.