I did not speak plainly before
for fear of condemnation.
Sometimes "yielding" can be wrong..
as in, "yield not to temptation..."
except, of course, in church, which we weren't.
And there's always some risk in the telling.
When he snatched me from my pallid world,
neither of us thought my body was offered...
his hand shaking my hand,
my hand covering his...
a single whisker on my friend's dark face
pierced my uplifted cheek.
I speak now of Alton's sweet kiss.
But those who see only "black and white"
might not welcome sure evidence.
I did not speak the truth for a long time.
Yes, and even now,
with our kinship grown large,
these feeble words house only the echo
of the love my brother gave.
First published in an earlier version in The Lone Wolf Review