After Auguste Rodin
Our contemplation long past twilight’s watch–
I spy upon our kiss of you I knew
whom I was formed to come to know.
Your reaching arm and all you are replace
the weighted crutch of mine upon my thigh
and I gaze down no more for your embrace.
What is unseen is pressing toward your lips
as your recline brings both your arms to hold
youth’s mystery of closer yet than this.
In letting go of all your reaching, arms
suspend you from succumbing to the grave
as life between us springs eternally.
I have no strength for else than raising you!
Sheer grace of elevating beauty kneels,
and kissing you where youth is born
this man continues falling from the flesh
still rising downward where our watch began:–
above the Gates below the Shades o’er Hell.