For the summer I’m going back to the series of pieces mythologizing my growing up in Cape Breton.
Graduation Secrets
at my highschool graduation
in my village
I was sworn to secrecy
to never reveal the names
of those men & boys
whom I learned to undress
some whose names I never did know
many had faces I had never seen
doing my sacred ceremony
in garages with no lights
even the windows were blocked
not to permit any glimpse
as with the strip clubs
the men were allowed pleasure
without identity
there were times
when all that was allowed
was the undressing
there could be no kissing
fondling
my hands were allowed
to close enough
for the over heated warmth
of our bodies to be felt
the rest was only for the imagination
to fuel our dreams of what could be
but would never be
we sacrificed the joy of actual confirmation
to the will of the moose
not to give in
was a testimony to our belief
yet there were times
when the darkness was dispelled
faces were clear in the street light
that shone on the back seats
of abandoned cars
were I would sometimes meet
those whose need was great
to be undressed by me
they would send me notes
tied to a robin’s leg
requesting my services
even then visual contact
was kept to a minimum
with the seal of the moose
burned into the instep of my left foot
I was always to remember the vow I took
to respect the sanctity
of other men’s fear
In high school I became a member of DeMolay, as sort of Jr. Free Masons group. The ceremonies associated it with were secrets we were sworn to keep as part of the induction process. The ceremonies were banal to the extreme & I can’t remember any of them, not even the secret handshake. So some of the ‘secret’ here comes from that memory.
There was also this secret knowledge that I supposed I would learn when I left high school. The key to being an adult – like the secret to success. As if finally being old enough to buy booze without a permit would uncork adulthood. There is also the secret of ‘don’t tell anyone.’ Then there’s the sexual secret of being queer with no one to tell it too.
This piece looks as some of the myths of secrets & the power they hold over our futures. What sex I had before coming out was always cloaked in being hidden, sometimes under the excuse of ‘we were so drunk’ Here my hero indulges in sex-capades in which anonymity is part of the ceremony, because in the village sex is a ceremony performed in the dark. If neither party sees the other the sacred is maintained, as well as the secrecy. Those secrets often scar us, a brand on the foot, in ways that are often near seen by others, or even ourselves.
It ends with a respect for secrets – no not respect buy for a willingness to keep them without judgement. I’ve seen & see married men who have this secret life. Yes, even today there are active gay/bi men who are in the closet – who for their own reasons don’t want to be out or outed. I don’t think it is a positive thing but I don’t judge them either. The sanctity of their fear is up to them to break.
Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet
