Man Unchanging Man

Barry Charman

I had never kissed another man
but I am not a man

his kind had passed beyond names
we were moon born, bound by nothing

he dismissed day like it was an insult to his flesh
I followed him off the known path
to the deep woods
he was a pale light that cut through a dim glade

why would you be afraid of me?
I am the son of the shadow the
moon makes of the trees

I watched his lips when he laughed
he dove naked into a pool
unashamed of being seen

he lived in a hut faraway from the world
unnatural was a concept he'd not been tainted with
he made a fire for us both
and we watched the flames lick each other

his skin was pale and cool
he held my hand like there was something
about my heat he remembered
he caught the way I studied him
I am not a demon
I am alone

like a key, turning deep inside
he was unlocking something
and when I kissed him
I tasted something true about myself

in his mouth I found my emptiness
in his arms I felt my purpose
making his heart quicken
I made him harden as I softened

entering him was like entering the woods
again and again
as I released myself I gave him my heat
wanting to leave nothing for myself

the world went away
softly, as it should
not judging, barely watching
receding with each sensation we wove
with our flesh

now we bathe by the pool
blossom dances nearby swaying sweet
while he talks of a world long passed
we listen to the faraway sounds
watch the strange objects that fly above
and I remember the dream of another life

Barry Charman is a writer living in North London. He has been published in various magazines, including Ambit, Mothership Zeta, Vitality and Popshot. He has had poems published online and in print, most recently in Bewildering Stories and The Linnet’s Wings. He has a blog at