Are the two men fighting or fucking on the bed?
Are they two men or one? Is that a bruise or bed?
After eating, he walked with me back to my room.
He flipped through my art books while sitting on my bed.
He eyed the twisting figures as I spoke of Bacon,
the carcass on the cross, the violent mass in bed.
We drained the bottle of Bordeaux between us.
Our shoes removed, we remained fully clothed in bed.
He stood up to go. He had to work tomorrow.
He said he does not sleep well in a stranger’s bed.
My hands have painted this night scene from many angles
but have not grasped the lovely figure in the bed.
In this manner he has taught Jee more about Bacon
than any body who had fucked him in his bed.