Postcard to R.H.
(re: Walters Art Gallery)
Baltimore, the eggs, what a yuck!
But on the top floor stood my stoney he, deer
ears and knocked-off tail, such a fine posture,
worshipped for centuries no doubt. And you,
love, are you yawning yet, just waking?
Found a krater turned to the wall. Some hint
made me look backside (gaydar?). Barely seen,
two youths--one erect, binding himself
for play, the other (sitting? kneeling?)--
just the fragment of a glance. Love,