Poetry From Provincetown: Day Two

Editor’s note: This is part two of a five part poetry series from Provincetown.

Read part one here, part two here, part 3 here, and part 4 here.

 

 

“The Silent Chronicles”

 

Part II: Routine

11:30 p.m.
“Just kidding,” I say,
“I love you now.”

11:30 p.m.
“Enough love,” he says, “It’s time for bed.”
We laugh.

11:31 p.m.
Entering the lavatory,
He starts the shower.

11:31 p.m.
I peel off my clothing,
And help him with his.

11:32 p.m.
We stand naked and exposed,
No secrets, no shame, only love between us two.

11:32 p.m.
The moment passes, our routine begins.
We step into the shower together.

11:33 p.m.
He steps under the stream of water,
I watch the droplets bounce, playfully, off his skin.

11:35 p.m.
I lather his body with soap,
Touching each inch of him.

11:36 p.m.
I wash his feet,
An act of service that he kindly returns.

11:38 p.m.
Toothpaste foams between our teeth.
Shampoo stings my eyes.

11:40 p.m.
The water rinses away the shampoo in his hair,
I watch it roll down his back, gently caressing the arch of his butt.

11:42 p.m.
I touch him again; this time is for pure joy.
He looks into my eyes, we embrace and kiss.

11:44 p.m.
Our weight shifts and I hit the wall,
The razor falls from its place, slides down and slices past my foot.

11:45 p.m.
The water is running pink with my blood,
They intermingle; he gets out of the shower for a cloth and bandage.

11:48 p.m.
He kisses atop the bandage,
“There, you’re healed.”

11:49 p.m.
“My doctor, my savior, my love.”
He helps me dry off, he dries himself off.

11:50 p.m.
I limp towards the bedroom, sliding naked into bed.
He remains to finish his routine.

11:54 p.m.
“Goodnight already.” I say as I smile.
He hasn’t come to bed yet.

11:55 p.m.
The sound of water running.
Then it’s silent.

11:57 p.m.
He enters the bedroom, a glass of water in his hand.
“Goodnight.”

11:59 p.m.
He empties his water glass.
Setting the glass on the nightstand he slides under the covers.

12:00 a.m.
I snuggle up next to him,
Our bodies lie in perfect harmony as we spoon.

12:01 a.m.
He whispers into my ear,
Then nibbles on my earlobe.

12:02 a.m.
He kisses my cheek,
Then my neck.

12:03 a.m.
He kisses my shoulder and
I squirm. “It

12:04 a.m.
Tickles.” He stops.
I roll over to face him.

12:04 a.m.
And again we are
Silent.

…

12:10 a.m.
His fingers glide through my hair.
“Good night my

12:11 a.m.
Prince.”
I stare into his eyes.

12:12 a.m.
“Meet you in my dreams.”
We smile.

12:13 a.m.
We kiss again.

12:14 a.m.
It falls silent.

(Continues tomorrow, June 29th, with Part III: ‘Falling’)

 

 

Caleb Eigsti is an aspiring everything, everything that includes director, actor, playwright and poet that is. Eigsti graduated from the University of Nebraska at Omaha with his bachelors in Theatre, emphasis in Directing and Acting, and moved out to New York City.

He has made is New York acting debut this summer and is finishing writing his first play. He has also written content for The New Civil Rights Movement before and is glad to be back.