The Hug
It was your
birthday, we had drunk and dined
Half of the
night with our old friend
Who'd showed
us in the end
To a bed I
reached in one drunk stride.
Already I lay
snug,
And drowsy
with the wine dozed on one side.
I dozed, I
slept. My sleep broke on a hug,
Suddenly, from
behind,
In which the
full lengths of our bodies pressed:
Your instep to
my heel,
My
shoulder-blades against your chest.
It was not
sex, but I could feel
The whole
strength of your body set,
Or braced, to
mine,
And locking me
to you
As if we were
still twenty-two
When our grand
passion had not yet
Become
familial.
My quick sleep
had deleted all
Of intervening
time and place.
I only knew
The stay of
your secure firm dry embrace.
THOM GUNN
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