IN HABANA DEL ESTE, WE'RE FAR IN FROM THE SEA
BUT FAR ENOUGH FROM THE CITY'S NOISOME CALAMITY
AWAY FROM TARNISH, SCANDAL, AND SHAME
WHERE HERE ON THIS HILLOCK IS NOTHING AND NO ONE TO DEFAME
The sweet melody of the rustling whisper of the palm,
The horseflesh, the noontime sun, the unfolding calm,
The blossom of the day and the sun rising high
As a few spare clouds scrub a blue enameled sky.
Amorous Marlon and Andro, still beautiful and young,
Still honeybrown and blessedly hung,
Are still made to idolaters make
Giving me more than there is time to take
With their rough beards, lusty lips, and speaking eyes,
Their sinewy forms, their tribal marks, and those meaty thighs.
And many are the curious dints to ponder
In their drum-tight bellies wither my wits wander.
Altered of course as the day alters the sun
As the sun alters the flower since the day begun.
The day, the river, time relentlessly push on.
Men have overthrown the boys, the boys are gone.
But when the brothers are playing and, oh, when they are smiling –
Either that churlish twist or that broad glint beguiling –
I recognize them again and memory can no longer falter
And I relinquish again and I submit again at the foot of their altar.
Their bodies, like the forges of Vulcan, put out a mighty heat
So that a solid embrace can make time retreat
Even for a moment – this moment here on this faraway farm
Where the brothers play, where the brothers charm
Is my scavenger's prize and I could lose my skin and fly
Delirious deep into that blue enameled sky.-BM-
Photography and text by Kevin Slack.
KEVIN SLACK | BEAUTIFULMAG