Sacrament

Also posted in "Todd Surfs LB CA"

Sacrament
(for Marcus)

You would rise to take your place in line
Solemn as I never saw you
And seem almost to glide
Past the rank on rank of pews.
As you went up the aisle, your face
Seemed elsewhere, your eyes, downcast
Focused on someplace other:
Past the time and place,
Beyond present or past
Or future to a place where the three
Found themselves as one in union --
In a perfect moment removed from time
Or space or any human thing.
Sharing the communion
And turning after bread and wine
With brimming eyes,
Your voice lifted to sing:
My brother.


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c. 2000 Todd Eliot

Through the Looking Glass

Through the Looking-Glass
(for my brother on Ancestor Night)

Marcus, my twin, in the mirror:
Always shining, older, stronger, fairer, –
Running a little way ahead when we were
Children on the beach;
Under the glass, living on beneath its
Surface – still playing hide and seek.

Every morning sun
Rose after a bitter dawn –
I woke again from dreams of us,
Knowing you were gone.

Time continued in its course:
One second became a minute; hours,
Days, weeks, months … learning to stand,
Dream, wake, cry, and crawl across the sand.

Still, Mum and the Da and I would
Joke: about the newest rebel angel –
One with ruffled wings, crooked smile, and
Never quite on time (with the halo always askew).

Each time I glimpse you in the mirror
(Less often underneath my changing face),
I know we'll sprint along dream-time beaches
Once again, laughing, and your voice singing
That you're with me -- as always -- racing just a step ahead.

=======================
c. 2001 Todd Eliot

Trompe l'Oeil

Trompe l'Oeil
(for my brother on Ancestor Night)

I saw your dancing ghost tonight
Among the swirling crowd
And the jumble of street revelers
Beneath the pulse of colored light:
A glimpse of gilded hair
Shaken off a steaming brow,
A deep spark of jade
Flashed from eyes that met mine
For an instant
And a gleam of smile
For a moment
At the Masquerade.

And I, disguised,
A shambling leper zombie
Propelled myself forward on sticks,
Pressing for a clearer sight
Before the crowd could shift
And you'd be lost again.

Lurching toward you
A foot or two stripped away the charm:
The paint so artfully applied
To shade away twenty years;
The bronzing over slack white arms;
The boots to change the height –
All conspired to fool my eye
With a cunning trick of the light.
Not you, then, no,
Nor ever is,
Nor ever will be again.

And I, disguised,
A weeping jester zombie –
Laughing fit to die
At the ways of the heart
When it tricks the eye –
Propelled myself away on sticks
Down the Promenade.

===========================
c. 2002 Todd Eliot