The Genius of Love and the Jock
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Of course it doesn’t matter that we don’t
Know just how beautiful Lascelles was: he
Was not a poet. Rupert Brooke was wont
To think the object of his love loomed free
Of flaws. The eye of this beholder ached
As every lover’s does with craziness.
That vampire thing called love is better staked
Right through its heartlessness. Love’s haziness
Prevents the tortured chest from seeing truth.
Testosterone produces dreaminess
When it is commandeered by swelling youth
With all its hairiness and steaminess.
If portraits of Lascelles were found, he yet
Would just be flesh the genius yearned to pet.
~ Phillip Whidden