Him

More angst from my early twenties...

Him

I see you to the taut arch of throat, and
sympathy of cartilage on voice,
to music fallen small below the blood-
bewildering breath.
 
How beautiful you are to me:
hands spidering the keys,
to tangle hearts behind them.
How impossibilities,
forget themselves, and be
because you are
 
a certain silence in sleepless hours
when winter gives assurance to indifference and fatigue,
and segue of laughter on obscene sorrow,
or some David, borrowed back
from belief.
 
Faith cannot disband
its debt upon idolatry;
raise God up to man
and you save him from nonentity.