SECRETS

We hide secrets in the crisscross of our palms
And watch our lives become headless soldiers hugging a minaret

Today might not be when you’d die
Your death is only the beginning of a sad song buried under the wings of a humming bird

And then you wonder why we give ourselves to worship
At the path where desire meets sorrow at the squelching sound of a thigh

And when I’m born again
Of fire and sadness from the ribcage of a burning sea
Remember that secrets do not become flesh on the skin of vagrant men
– It is the earth that hastens their feet towards the sun dipped in gold.

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FLIGHT

The first time you kissed a broken boy,
You flew.
Grew wings beneath your chest
And took flight.
You experienced the emergency of molting,
Sunlight caught your wings in ripples of fire.
Fire that quivered from your lips in sycophancy of undulating bodies.

You become free.
A mask…
A cocoon…

Because from where you come,
Boys do not become lovers of themselves and live.
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Poems © Elias Andrevn
Image: Pixabay.com remixed