He’s in God’s hands now.
The kiss of his beloved on his cheek
Grows warmer as he descends,
And as pressure builds in his ears
And the endeavor he’s chosen to undertake
Becomes all too suddenly real,
Her lingering kiss threatens to sear
Straight through his cheek.
A fool’s errand will reap no spoils.
In the dark of the deep
Where pounding hearts may,
For some agonizing moments,
Drown out the hiss of the craft.
A great and terrible groan,
God turns away his face.
He comes to a final rest on that lightless floor,
Away from the prying eyes and hands of men
And the sweet kiss of his love.
Chris Straker is a writer born and based in Queens. Find more of his work at https://chrisstraker.substack.com.