intertwined

Dedicated to David Selves, aged 12, who died off Woolich supporting his drowning playfellow and sank with him clasped in his arms on September 12th, 1896

 

what is it to be known 

to have someone stretch their trembling 

limbs around your heart

    mason.

the boy turns for his other

lips locked moments before

tumbling through trees sworn to secrecy

their eyes turned to the feather-dotted sky, birds singing their 

    songs of indifference

arching their necks to look up, heat flares in their cheeks and arms

the anticipation of palms running down each other’s chests

    the boy’s heartbeat, beat, beat, beat

 

it was quiet, the split

a low rumble, like the gurgle in his father’s throat

before the bloom of bruises

    mason.

the boy didn’t think, didn’t breathe, only moved

all inhibition knotted as shivers danced up his spine

at the edge of the slice, the boy heard his name

    david, david, david

electricity bloomed across skin freshly stroked red

he bit his tongue, suffocating a wail

mind running to prayers long ago buried

    fear cleaning locks to doors rusted from negligence 

the boy didn’t speak, only wrapped his trembling arms around 

the small body of his lover

pressing his blueing lips to skin coated in gooseflesh

    he did not flail, he did not swim

but instead prayed for the trees to release their secret

to signal from every branch for a soul to stumble

into their frozen embrace

 

the boy feels muscles sag above him

and runs his fingers down the limp arms of the boy he loves

steadying his eyes on what is here, what is now

shedding everything but his heart

     still beating, still loving

water bites at his gut, his chest, his hands that refuse

to cease stroking a rigid chest

until the cold flees altogether, fingers pausing 

upon the edge of a rib

and the boys feel nothing at all.