By K. Morris Kurzman
Lewd echoes coo through the dim membrane of thought
That bubbles him in untouchable silence.
Perfect lips match perfect eyes-- arms lie perfectly
Blind by his side, safe from the craven taste of
Years gone by.
My cruel father chained this man, and
Makes him stay always new--
But do not blame my father-- my hallowed name
More than His owes this broken body.
My own request left him frozen by my
I thought it best to keep him young;
Untouched by time, resting forever.
But I have learned the worth of age (though
Learning cost me far more than I
Sought to pay):
Ephemeral youth, like damask and fragile glass, is
Worth endlessly more than this timeless, untouchably perfect