Philip Lee

I'm naked now,
The walls recede,
I hear my body speak as other noises fade,
Eyes, ears, nose protected - will clay invade in spite?
Trance-like,
I am in my head with unease,
I sense the ground;
It's hard, uneven; sharp, a threat.
Head and feet seem all I am.

I'm walking now,
The cold advances,
Where do I go? How to proceed?
I determine,
I count four steps, four more I pause.
Head for the fire for warmth and time,
A teasing voice, "Make way, nude man, make way",
The fire is mocking too,
I'm colder, eager, set.

I'm certain now,
All eyes are looking,
They see the way, my path is clear.
The rhythm sure,
Four steps. I stop. My way is blocked.
A young man's face is close to mine,
"I could kiss him," he taunts then stands aside,
Both dignities prevail.
Chaos without and calm within.

I'm standing now,
In runny clay,
The slip made way for feet, now folding back,
Like flesh on flesh.
It chills then warms, comforts,
A trick to topple me? Head up to wait for poise.
Knees bend, arms prop, I move down into clinging liquid,
Breath-stealing cold,
The risk remains, it's put aside.

I'm floating now,
Across the pool,
It won't engulf, though buoyancy may wreck my scheme,
The earth is kind it pushes up.
A change of plan, I writhe and rock,
I struggle in and squirm to coat in cream.
My cock pulled up by tightening balls,
White-coated, shining, bright with light,
Sensuous, slick: a playful rite.