by Chris Buchanan
Poetry, 2013

—

I took Mark to the old reservoir,
put him in the water
and looked for something beautiful.

He powered across the surface
like a Sea World seal
and smiled and made wide ripples.

The view reflected itself and the sun,
playfully shimmered
and it was fine for a few minutes.

His muscles swelled up, cut through.
He flashed and glanced
and tried to remind me he was handsome.

I’d seen it all from dogs and ducks,
diving and flapping
and following men on the bank.

The place was full of my childhood
until I was hungry
and Mark emerged on his own.

We got out some butties and pottered
in through the trees
and I almost forgot to look back.

Then he took me to some secret spot,
sipped at my coffee.
When he caught my eyes I stopped.