Vox Populi
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Michael Simms: The Door
The first time I saw him he was a beautiful Irish boy, an extra in a Synge play wearing too much rouge on his cheeks which might have looked clownish on anyone less attractive. Black curls, blue eyes, delicate flesh bulging in his forearms, his beauty caught my breath as if I’d swallowed a large piece of meat. He was radiant and this was the first time I’d ever noticed male beauty. I was 18, a Southern Baptist boy. Later he and I had a poetry workshop together and his similes were as lush as his lips. I could barely speak but I knew he knew I was attracted to him so one day he invited me to his apartment on the pretext of loaning me a book and all I could do was nod silently. We both knew the agenda. We sat on the couch side by side and he produced a balm which he rubbed slowly on his lips to make them more sensitive he said and offered the balm to me. My lips began to tingle as he moved his face closer to mine and in that moment I needed to decide. If I made love with him, it would be my first time with a man. It was Texas. 1972. Sodomy was a felony. Also I had a kind and pretty girlfriend whom I didn’t want to hurt. But now five decades later I have to be honest at least with myself if not you, reader who may also have denied denied, denied. The truth is my fear of jail and infidelity paled next to my fear of what came next. You might say I feared becoming what I feared. I knew if I made love with this beautiful young man I would fall in love and then what? I’d been taught for a man to lie with a man was abomination. Although I didn’t believe it, had teachers who were gay, I was worried I would like sex with him too much, need more, become something my family abhorred. Would he and I bathe together, would we take turns? What exactly did his belly feel like? I was curious, ravenous, burning with the lust of the men of Sodom who tried to rape the visiting angels. A taste for strange flesh brought the city to ruin. And yet this young man’s beauty hypnotized me so I sat on the couch unable to move toward or away from his lips, unable to decide who I was, what my life would be but finally didn’t have to. He sensed my fear and pulled back. He was no seducer. He didn’t have to be as gorgeous as he was. He sat back. We made small talk. I walked out the door. For the rest of the semester we saw each other often but our eyes never met. Why would they? What was there to discuss? A faltering glimpse of desire? An interlude of uncertainty? A door forever closed.
Michael Simms is the founder and editor of Vox Populi. His latest collections of poems are American Ash (Ragged Sky 2020) and Nightjar where this poem appears (Ragged Sky, 2021).
Copyright 2021 Michael Simms
Vox Populi 
Michael, this poem is riveting! I am with the speaker all the way as he agonizes totally alone over this decision, which would have been (as he could sense) life-changing. We have all had these moments! Thank you for this!
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Thank you, Carolyne! I love your poetry as well.
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Thanks so much, Michael! We will be in touch again very soon, I believe! ❤
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Michael a wonderful life moment and a closing door to an uncompleted thought. quite fine
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Thanks, Peter!
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I love the pure honesty of this poem.
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Thanks, Bob.
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Exquisite. And strangely sad. All the roads not taken.
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Thanks, Alexis. Yes, this was one of those moments when I could have taken “the road not taken” and it has made all the difference.
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Amazing poem. Well done. Wow!
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Thanks, Sean!
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Michael – Your writing edges me ever-closer to full authenticity. It’s a gift. Thanks for modeling the courage it takes to speak truth – only to later realize there was no need to be fearful in the first place.
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I think there was a need to be fearful, in that time and in that place. I grew up there too, and there are many intimate situations, like this one Michael describes, that could literally change everything. The real danger was losing everyone you knew and loved over loving someone who was not of the approved race, gender, or social status. Choices had to be made that have become less important in our current society.
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Spot on, Kim!
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Thanks, Patricia. Authenticity is important to me both as a writer and as a reader. I’m glad you feel the same way.
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Beautiful and sad.
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Thanks, Barbara!
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Ah, the emotions wrung out of us by the emotions you wring out of yourself. Very moving piece. Thanks.
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Thanks, Mel. I’ve long thought that gender (and the desire that goes with gender) is not made of categories, but rather it is a spectrum of inclinations.
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Made me so sad.
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Thanks, Rose Mary. Love denied.
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Wonderful, Michael! I was riveted. Your continuing vulnerability is so much of what this land needs. Thank you for sharing.
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Thanks, Tony!
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Jose – I was thinking that exact thing. What a different world this might be if we all shared our back stories. We’d find so much more in common.
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wow rc
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Thanks, Rick!
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