[Lyric] Passage (Alex Dimitrov)

At the St. Mark’s baths Hart Crane washes my hair
And I tilt around the cold porcelain of the basin
With strain and delight, trying to look at him

But before I meet his sea-tempered eyes
I feel his hands easing my head
Into the dark water

As if he were a sailor calming a storm
On a ship with insatiable men
When he tugs at the ropes that are my hair

My American youth streams down—
One year so heavy, it finds its way under the towel
Around my waist and rests near the curve of my thigh

Who am I? I think. And I try to remember
The beginning of beauty—before Orpheus
Before winter—

Before this man who sings
For the drowning, touches my lips
And I ignite