tallonrk1
10-13-2015, 04:16 AM
Empty park bench,
the night’s music. Clicks
over croaks and buses—
wind breathing,
applause from shaking leaves
and I am the man
standing in the back
of the concert hall.
Empty park bench, I didn’t ask
for its empty— absence of nature
because the grass isn’t soft enough,
cage of metal, the reason
this music isn’t for us.
Trees and their wooden hands,
open palms,
I offer my shaking head—
tell it I could never enter
that world.
I am uprooting,
walking on concrete,
the only culture
I’ve lived.
And you are running through forests,
planting your feet
in mud, grounded
by the land that fed you;
Empty park bench— you asked
for its empty, watched it sit there
from the grass, and I
hold my hand out to you,
open palms,
you stare at me—
tell me you could never enter
that world,
as if the gay world
is a filthier world,
that call of “unnatural”
echoed throughout every
city,
and that Cathedral.
Find the table that has
“IM GAY”
etched into it.
Empty park bench;
the reason
this music.
And you stare at me with
this music
Sweet boy.
Sweet boy.
this music,
empty
clicks, buses— my
open palms
they want so badly
to grab the trees by their roots,
whisper
is this enough for you?
Can you love me now?
the night’s music. Clicks
over croaks and buses—
wind breathing,
applause from shaking leaves
and I am the man
standing in the back
of the concert hall.
Empty park bench, I didn’t ask
for its empty— absence of nature
because the grass isn’t soft enough,
cage of metal, the reason
this music isn’t for us.
Trees and their wooden hands,
open palms,
I offer my shaking head—
tell it I could never enter
that world.
I am uprooting,
walking on concrete,
the only culture
I’ve lived.
And you are running through forests,
planting your feet
in mud, grounded
by the land that fed you;
Empty park bench— you asked
for its empty, watched it sit there
from the grass, and I
hold my hand out to you,
open palms,
you stare at me—
tell me you could never enter
that world,
as if the gay world
is a filthier world,
that call of “unnatural”
echoed throughout every
city,
and that Cathedral.
Find the table that has
“IM GAY”
etched into it.
Empty park bench;
the reason
this music.
And you stare at me with
this music
Sweet boy.
Sweet boy.
this music,
empty
clicks, buses— my
open palms
they want so badly
to grab the trees by their roots,
whisper
is this enough for you?
Can you love me now?