________________________________________________
Epithalamium
A kiss. Train ride home from a late dinner,
City Hall and document signing. Wasn’t cold
but we cuddled in an empty car, legal.
Last month a couple of guys left a gay bar
and were beaten with poles on the way
to their car. No one called them faggot
so no hate crime’s documented. A beat down
is what some pray for, a pulse left to count.
We knew we weren’t protected. We knew
our rings were party favors, gold to steal
the shine from. We couldn’t protect us,
knew the law wouldn’t know how. Still, his
beard across my brow, the burn of his cologne.
When the train stopped, the people came on.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Phillip B Williams is a Chicago native and author of Mutiny (Penguin, 2021), winner of the American Book Award, and Thief in the Interior (Alice James Books, 2016), winner of the 2017 Kate Tufts Discovery Award and a 2017 Lambda Literary award. He received a 2017 Whiting Award and was a Helen Putman fellow for the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study. He is founding faculty of Randolph College low res MFA.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Vintage photo of two Black men at the beach, from the Flickr exhibition Hidden in the Open, curated by Trent Kelley
Go to Source
Author: Terence Winch
