After listening to this week's Double X Podcast, I was inspired to write a poem for my wife, Paige. I posted it to her FB page with her permission, but it lost the formatting (curses, FB! Grr!) so here's the poem the way it's supposed to look.
The Permitted Relationship
by Benjamin Gorman
Under the table of the outdoor restaurant
Barely invisible to traffic
Secret so close to being discovered
One hand is defiant black skin
The other trembling white
Or they are both smooth female hands
Nails polished and scratching gently
Or both men's hands
Or one has a wedding ring
Its pair far away
Or one is soft paper
With more wrinkles than the other
Of hands, holding on out of sight
The romance of the forbidden
They hold in the face of fear
Of reprobation, law, hatred,
Or just frowns, sneers, scorn
Or the breaking of hearts of those not present
But the hands are admired
Because they hold.
Because they defy.
We cover one hand in werewolf fur
Cold marble vampire skin
Subterranean alien scales
To call it love.
Are on top of the table
Skin the same color and age.
Or they are under the heavy blankets
Of our soft, bourgeoisie bed
But we hold in the face of fear
Of monotony, complacency, apathy
Or just forgetfulness, age, comfort
Or the loss we cannot contemplate
Our hands are admirable, too.
I hold for you.