Lines On Watching “Death in Venice”

Sara L Russell, 31/8/22 at 00:33

What a dancing flame is the state of youthful beauty!

What deceitful glamour enchants in the briefest of glances,

the most innocent of passing weary sighs!

See, now, how he wanders over the rippled wet sands;

a golden Adonis in Breton-striped swimsuit

and raffish shaded hat, at a jaunty angle,

careless of the caprice of the tide, or of time,

yet dimly aware of the solemn, admiring gaze 

of the man in the white suit.

The boy’s hair is angelic gold, spun of sunlight, 

girlishly long and wavy, down to his slender shoulders.

He moves lightly over the sand and shallow waters

as if with Mercury’s wings on his heels;

almost impossibly graceful and free.

The older man seems elderly by comparison,

rather than in middle age, as he is;

racked by mid-life-crisis anxieties,

infatuated by the unattainable,

saturated with sweat, 

his hair dye running in the heat,

his body shivering, 

riddled with cholera.

The boy turns, acknowledges him with a 

kind, gentle smile.

Turning again, he walks back to the

protective gaze of his mother.

The moment is gone. 

Youth’s transient flame swirls and dances on

towards its destiny.

The man in the white suit dies,

invisible to all.