BLACKHOLE SUN 3. Poem by Peter Verhelst

3.
Do not be sad, my love, but cry for me,
I'll let your tears dissolve inside me, let them recall
The memories of others, tears that you, both hot and happy
Poured on me, when beaming you held me in thrall,

When with that force you took me as a man
And moments later died, your little death,
Much like a child in my embrace, with every breath
You dear sweet thing, you came in me again, again.

Look how I dance before you, how with every twist of loin
I shape a letter, watch me well and read those letters then
Off me, commit them to your memory, so I may join

You every day, rejoicing, crouching down before your face,
Aglow with longing, am your heartbeat, am your man
The poem in your mouth, tattooed in place.