Walking along the narrow
lanes and corridors of Hell,
trying not to meet any empty eyes,
knife wound throbbing in my chest,
portrait throbbing in my mind-
Will this unholy image
be my eternal cross to bear?
And as I pondered
vain declarations of my youth
I saw before me
the most beautiful boy-
More fair, yes, than I ever was
I do confess it-
wandering aimless, agonized, confused
amongst the tortured souls
asking, “Have you seen my love?
Have you seen him?”
Out of intrigue more than pity
I posed the question
“Who is this love of yours?
Who could truly love such a fine face?”
For I knew the lies and trials
that lay down such a road.
He told me of the boy in the water,
the most beautiful boy-
Golden hair and pale complexion-
he described himself flawlessly,
and suddenly I understood.
I knew his love well.
I walked him to the Styx
and pointed down, declaring
“Behold! I bring you to your beloved!”
And as he bent himself low,
smiling over the surface,
close enough to kiss it,
I shoved him in,
kicked him hard for good measure,
for sink he must
in order to escape the fate of vanity.
oh, murderous impulses impossible to forget,
I may have saved him yet.
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