You have known man,
You have born child,
We touched once, almost,
our stretched fingers feeling their way carefully
inside a mesh of thorns and nettles
inching slowly towards each other
a breath an hour, a word a day... ouch!...
You pricked your finger and pulled it hastily back
gathering all of your limbs in your shell
under a canopy of spikes and thistles
and anemones and blossoming cherry trees and discarded down,
the bleeding finger in your mouth
writing stories about the kingdom of king Mighthavebeen.
Time followed fashion and pulled back its hours, days,
Hey there, fairy!
Maybe the shell was empty,
maybe you left.
I knocked again,
Hey there fairy, touch me?
This time something stirred inside the opaque carapace
and a thin feeler crawled out through a small fissure
touching my face, then touching my ears, my eyes,
finally touring several times around my mouth and inside it.
It was only a thought, not a finger even.
Hmm, feels like you, sounds like you...
I heard the smacking sounds of your licking the end of the feeler.
...but it does not taste like you, does not smell like you.
I stepped back, surprised, annoyed...
no, not angry.
How would you know?
You never tasted, smelled me before.
I did not like the pitch of my voice,
suddenly shrill like an adolescent’s transiting into puberty.
You laughed... thank God for a sense of humor.
I heard some bumps and thumps,
then a few apples rolled out
through a long crack which closed immediately.
The odor was sharp, strange, a bit acrid.
What’s this? I asked, a few old, rotten apples?
They make the best of wine, you laughed back,
and... there was nothing.
Not even red shoes.
Fairy!... I tried calling out.
Just a few apples.
Bitten by teeth, and worms, and words, and...
I looked closer,
tiny lines rolling, dancing, chanting.
I picked up the apples and stuffed them in my pockets,
my fingers tingling with strange sensations
as the bleeding bite marks started seeping into my body.
Was difficult carrying it in one hand
and my suitcase in the other.
Was even more difficult driving the car to the airport
given that my car was a six positions manual stick-shift type.
I got there though in one piece,
starting, shifting gears, one emergency overtake and one cat safe,
rolling down the manual window for the parking ticket...
The toughest though was getting through passport control (easy),
security (terrible), flight attendant (luckily she took pity on me),
eating the rubber chicken only with a fork (my neighbor helped me),
getting through customs (impossible).
After deliberating with various officials for three hours
calling a shrink to estimate my sanity
and the local sanatoriums to ascertain none of their residents is missing
and my embassy, ascertaining the same at my departure point,
they let me in and even helped me to the cab stand.
Some laughed. Some cried, I mean had tears in their eyes laughing.
Some made signs with international meaning against their head.
Did not matter, all was fine. I was finally on my way.
You did not expect me.
Hey there, fairy!
You were uncombed, uncologned, unlipsticked... un... so many other un’s,
brown slippers to your feet, a large run to your right stocking,
your mouth taking its second bite into an apple,
You watched me with a curious look,
my one hand carrying it, the other hand carrying the suitcase,
wasn’t clear if your examination ended appreciatively or devastatingly...
you drooled the question out
a piece of chewed apple jumping to my lower lip as you spoke
but before your finger reached out my tongue snatched the invader in,
munching slowly, your embarrassed finger touching my lip.
Hey there, fairy! I repeated,
this time with no door panel between us
and your head cocked to the left
and your eyes squinted questioningly...
Hmm, feels like you, sounds like you...
Well, I always thought women could scream, till I heard you.
Then I had to recalibrate my knowledge ten decibels higher.
You screamed, dropping the apple and slamming the door in my face
then opening it again... please, come in...
and disappearing somewhere in the halls of female vanity
somewhere... wherever, in the house.
I pushed the door gently shut behind me,
dropped the suitcase next to the door
and sat down on the sofa, my back straight,
my hand holding it right in front of me. Waiting. I did not move.
I did not count time, time was irrelevant,
I looked at the walls, the furniture, absorbed the unfamiliar smells,
various sounds and unintelligible words penetrating from behind a closed door,
a few bangs and yelps... took me so long to get here
now I had all the time in the world.
I think I waited for hours.
Probably the same you emerged countless... maybe it was days?... later.
As I was supposed to remember if I would have seen you before.
As I imagined.
Only this time there were black shiny shoes to your feet
and golden threaded stockings ending somewhere unknown
beyond the hem of the black dress which started a bit above your knee
molding your forms like a lover’s glove into parts called hips
and parts called waist and parts called breasts and finally shoulders
acting as a white flesh clothes hanger
hanging to the black cloth with two narrow black straps...
did you choose the black to emphasize the white, I asked myself
before letting my eyes settle on your face
and dying there in ecstasy.
You approached and sat next to me
pulling modestly the dress towards your knees,
the shine in your eyes inhuman...
Is this for me?... you asked, pointing to it.
It is for you, I tried to say, and failed, my hand holding it gone rigid by now,
same as my facial muscles and my brain.
May I take it? you asked further, approaching your hand and your body.
That’s what I came here for, I failed saying again,
afraid to open my fingers till you picked it gently from my hand
and neared it to your face.
And you want to tell me that you flew all the way from there to here
holding an uncovered glass of wine full to the brim in your hand
and you passed through passport control and security checks
and flight attendants and an airplane dinner and customs officers
still holding on to it and not spilling one drop?
Yes, I failed saying a third time, and did not try again.
You neared it to your nose,
and I saw the fragrance ascending into your nostrils
and clouding your eyes,
then I could not see the clouds anymore as your eyelids descended
and you took a long sip.
Yes, it tastes like my apples... and before I could protest, you added,
...yes, it tastes like you, it smells like you.
You sipped again, savoring, your tongue licking the glass’ rim.
Am I your lover? you asked.
You are my fairy, I finally found my cords
and the sound of ripping cloth invaded my ears like hailstones
as your wings uncurled on your back fluttering victoriously
and the black dress fell to your feet
and your white blinded me.
Love me, you said,
and I did not know if it was a question, or a request, or a command.
I watched you turn the glass upside down
and as the wine started pouring
our cheeks touched, facing upwards
the wine filling our mouths till there was no more mouth left,
and no more wine.
You caught the last drop on your closed lips
and turned your face offering it to me.
I decided to take the offer.
The walls around us turned crystal,
tiny cracks running through them
in a nightmare of spiders carrying countless web threads
spreading in all directions
waiting for our mouths to touch... they touched...
the wine mouthfuls blending to a toxic mixture of morning scented liqueur
and as we started gulping the insides of each other’s mouth
the crystal exploded in billions of stars
settling into the endless canopy stretching above us,
on our skin,
Where are we? I asked, catching my breath for a second.
In the kingdom, you answered,
burning my clothes with a touch of your wing
and turning them to... wings?
Love me, you repeated,
and this time the command in your voice was unmistakable.
It was my first flight, ever,
my first love making beneath the stars
and so close to them.
Your laughter twinkled as I tried my wings
and missed one or two turns chasing you and bumping into a star’s corner
or crashed into an angry goose which started chasing me around you
clinging to my right foot’s big toe.
But within one sunset I was as good as you, within two I was better,
within three I was ready to make love.
Let’s make love, I begged, panting.
Here, among the stars? you asked.
Here, among reflections of your teardrops, I answered
and embraced you with arms, with wings,
caring not for falling... we were so high...
You lifted your arms above your head, ballerina style,
and started gyrating around an imaginary axis spiked through your body,
my left hand’s fingers tracing a four lined thread on your skin
starting at your wrists, and as you gyrated higher and higher
my trace advanced downwards on your arms
leaving a trail of conquering goosebumps at every touch point...
goosebumps, involuntarily I snatched a glance around for that bellicose goose...
reaching your elbows, lower towards your armpits,
the first goosebumps inside your armpits and a shrill giggle...
hey, it’s tickling... but you did not stop your gyration,
rising further till my little finger started fluctuating
having reached the beginning of your breasts,
then the other fingers joined the vacillation,
stronger, the amplitude growing, hill, valley, hill,
the little finger invading the sacred areolae realm,
pebbles bursting to the surface underneath the invader's dare,
one more rotation... the little finger touched... mounted the nipple
I heard the gasp, saw the shudder,
your teeth so white against an almost severed lower lip,
your vertical movement reaching almost a halt
when my ring finger reached the nipple
one finger above and one beneath, left breast, right breast, left breast...
pale scarlet invading your cheeks from the middle towards the edges
your breath suddenly rugged, uneven, your gyration stopping for a moment
allowing me to cup the nipple between my fingers and squeeze gently,
I knew you wanted to scream
the tendons of your neck stretching like a hunter’s bow
yet you preferred to keep it for later as, suddenly, you resumed your ascent
my fingers now underneath your breasts,
your rotation faster, your ascent faster,
the skin above my fingers the coarseness of rough sand
the skin underneath my fingers the smoothness of newborn petals,
the hips, the navel, the belly squirming, growling,
my fingers approaching that moment of fulmination
the meeting point of all of your body’s sensations
the soft wetness...
touch... penetration... exit... touch... penetration... exit...
oh, you screamed, oh, you screamed inside my head, inside my body
inside the universe as it tumbled into chaos
thunderbolts racing between your shrieking wing tips
when you invaded my flesh with your presence
lacerating my shoulder muscles with your desperate hold
your mouth welding its burning perimeter against mine
our exploding lungs acting and breathing as one
our bodies rushing for celestial recognition
your insides roaring in titanic satisfaction
as the tsunami shivering its way from my ankles up
finally exploded its devastating fury into your flesh
and we burned our comet between the raining stars...
Close your eyes, you murmured,
repairing the damage to my wings with the poison of chewed laurel leaves,
then covering my body with fine, warm sand
and lying above me humming sad, wordless lullabies.
And after the fantasy is over? you asked after the second conflagration.
The fantasy is never over, I answered after the third one.
Why? you insisted.
There was no more sand in the universe
so you covered me with the diamond dust you gathered for three nights running
and now starting to melt between us, gluing our chests’ skin.
Because it is reality, I answered, knowing.
And when you leave?
I pulled your head up, not allowing you to breathe for long minutes.
You did not mind, you breathed through your skin.
You close your eyes and I am back.
We slept for three nights and days.
Then I left.
There was a letter attached to the box,
I paid the postal dues and opened the letter.
Before you came I had kingdom,
now I learned love.
I have to choose,
I opened the box.
There were three apples inside,
and a glass.