Vampires

I bought the book you recommended
(though I admit, right then, in that light,
any suggestion from those perfect lips
would have made perfect sense to me)
I tried to read it—I began—
but scarcely the vampire had begun his sad story
and suddenly there were sad songs on the radio—
sad eyes on the street—
and J.T. sang
“they’ll take your soul if you let them,”
but I knew I had found a friend in you,
not to take my soul—
to help me find it
the way you were finding yours

under your steady gaze and smile
I grew calm
took measured breaths
and caught in your eyes
a curious glimpse of myself
whole and serene,
a creature perfectly comfortable
with all its awkward transmutations—
for once it didn’t matter at all
whether the vision was a picture of the present
or a promise for the future

why did you have to be so beautiful?
you had already given your heart
yet there was plenty to spare
for a lonely passerby—
I don’t doubt the crumbs falling from that table
have often made a brother
from an ordinary dog—
set the vampire longing
after heavenly wine

brother, your voice fell softly
over these frozen fields
like the sun, just now
on this rainy street
from under long raven’s curls
it signaled to something
deep beneath the stony ground
that it was time:
time to fear the wooden stakes
no more