poetry by david banach

Tim Travel Suicide Note

I am your past    you say   all of that
secret   in bed writhing   hardness 
unknowing need    I can see us then  

dying    self-inflicted    squirming
and releasing  on self-same bed  things
we could not say  from now  I write the note

say now   friend   of long ago   why you 
wanted to die   say now   why your body
hard with love    led you to this place

*

rain drops   on ashes   peach fuzz   against
your tongue   grazing   train speeding  by near
misses  and we lived   despite our best efforts

and as if   past self   I am with you    hand on brow
loving what you could not    the completion 
of a song   you just started   hearing     listen

listen my love   my self    dear queer boy
for the ripples   notes   from futures  singing
of that   so  hard love   we have  for what you give    away.

Vocation

I go to church      in the space     between your      hips
fingerpad softness   anointing forehead  tracing   ley
lines   down      the center      of your     chest        little
intimacies    and   you suffer         my touch         chaste
and offering    up     the holiness     of   this      tabernacle
of the most         sacred        of human               mysteries

the entering    into one      by the other        trans
substantiation        of my essence      into    yours
lips     in almost   touches    energy  jumping gaps
eyes   trading    secrets     bodies       already know

and where  is the loneliness   I wear like an old shirt   well
worn  and lifted jointly    we enter    the sanctum sanctorum 
together  in that space   where spirit speaks   where nothing
is profane    where rests    on us    the smile    of God.