The House of Men

There is no touching               in the house of men just wrestler moves power take downs no touching no removing of veils to tenderness

I am embattled trained in the ways of slipping touch trained by a skilled general in the war against gentle stroke and caress and of binding the wound before the cut

the tongue and the eye and the heart can lie   deceive the senses into believing

they are real      how many times has he said I love you just to

disappear how many how many heartfelt gestures turned to dust after midnight ardor

this house of men is bankrupt has no doors or windows we all sleep

on barren floors face to back to back to         enslaved to dreams of doing as signs of love doing

as gift more powerful than the touch that seeps through bone to spirit to DNA healing

lineage     the house of men sits in light    full of praying    hands coated with grief praying

to become doctors fakirs psychic healers

the house of men is filled       with boys

with babble the talking outside of the lines of hollow speech the   house

has age but no wisdom age but no men inside

always morning never afternoon or night      just men begetting boy begetting boy begetting men