Elegy for Olaf Thereukauf

I fold your blue underthings
and your leggy blond stockings
the moon looks into your cold room
needles fence in your memory
your coffin carries your prayers
from your hospital room of wires and white
What angel carries your message
and what am I to do ?

I knelt by your bed to speak in your ear
and pressed my face against your cheek
Your closed lips pushed against my mouth
in desperation - perhaps a minute
perhaps an hour later, I wrapped
my arms around you completely
motionless.

In the last moments I could hear
your chaste voice muddy with tears
But your mouth will never open
to the blue-veined cancerous dawn.

Your lay in your grave, a bland clay formation
while I stand over you and I shudder:
I want the strong air of winter
and I want nothing to matter
and I want the arrival of rain to tell me
that you are recorded in heaven.

4.24.94