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.

Text: The Hug, Thom Gunn
Image: Photographer, subjects unknown,
via Miss Magnolia Thunderpussy/ipernity

Tagged: poetry, Thom Gunn, vintage, vintage gay photo