Here is another poem nominated from Limp Wrist:
Beautiful boys with glistening skin,
their eyes aglaze with ecstasy,
wait for the night to come full circuit,
bare—-chested and thrusting to a rhythm.
If their eyes are aglaze with ecstasy,
their hearts and minds are ablaze with love,
bare—-chested and thrusting to a rhythm
they won't remember in the morning.
Their hearts and minds indeed blaze with love,
or what they think of as love.
But they won't remember in the morning
the things they whisper to one another.
What they think of as love
is the pulse they feel beneath the music.
The things they whisper to one another
on the dance floor shimmer just out of reach.
What is that pulse they feel beneath the music?
Something primitive, that keeps them moving.
On the dance floor, shimmering just out of reach,
they somehow understand what is to come.
Something primitive keeps us moving,
like beautiful boys with glistening skin.
Somehow we too understand what is. Come.
Wait for the night to come full circuit.
~ Jeremy Glazier