Tell me the color of your eyes, I asked.
I donít know, you answered.
It is your eyes I am asking about, I repeated.
Whatever your covet is, I wish to satisfy, you answered, hurt.
Are you witch? I asked.
I could read in my mind the look of distress on your face
as you stood up, the chair ramming into the wall,
I hurried to correct the situation...
Are you angel? ...only to get it worse,
my imagination guiding me onto realityís path
watching you pick up your coat
then bend to click closed the shoeís tiny buckle
the one you just opened...
Desperation, or was it desire,
how did I come to mix all the dís in my head... doubt, doom, drought...
what was it that took hold of rampaging dementia
and clamped down on it for one last try?...
Are you woman?
The miles in between rolling lazily
indifferent to the waves battering my chest bones into mush
as I waited the hours long distance of your answer,
my imagination for once betraying me
enshrouding you in the secrecy of my unknowledge of you.
I heard a door slamming half a world away,
oh, God, no... donít... the cold waft of air hitting my face
and I refused to open my eyes
a door slamming just a breathís distance away.
I opened my eyes.
Where did you drag this posture from,
one shoe dangling from an index finger stuck under the strap
the other still on your foot
the lopsided effect enhanced by a coat dangling from your other hand
dragging behind a wooden chair, one sleeve clutched in your fist,
a torn, hanging piece of blouse baring a white shoulder, half a braís cup...
What did you get hooked on? I asked
caring not for fantasy or reality.
An airplaneís wing tip, you answered,
and it sounded logical somehow.
You cut the breathís distance to half,
then to nothing, inhaling my lungs.
No, you did not kiss me. What did you me?
I womaníd you, I think you said,
and at that moment I knew this was the only answer
and the color of your eyes whatever I covetted it to be
because... I tore my lungs away from your mouth
and savored my victory asking again
Are you woman?... and before you had the chance to vanish
through that hole in the ground back to your world
You are woman!...
making sure you heard the exclamation mark.
You heard it.
I felt it.
ascending from that sunken south,
demanding of its breathless prey
its famished want with bites allay
and curb its ageless drouth.
emblazing timeís untarnished sand,
descending through a flaring swarm
amongst the crumbs of raging storm
its lust with coals to brand.
While knotting muscles down my spine the soothe of balsam shun
And plowing nails invest my flesh in search for crimes undone
We share the desert of a night beneath the willowís bark
The spasm a dance, the pain a balm, the scream a trilling lark.
denying skinís demure protest,
invoking gods of sunken suns
to guide my fingers just this once
and claim its lasting nest.
enchasing stars in morningís sky,
beseeching passionís cleaving bane
and endless waves of screeching pain
till morrowís sad good bye.
I kneeled to remove the lonesome shoe
you dropping the one hanging to your finger,
you dropped the coatís sleeve as well
and the chair made a hollow noise
as it disappeared to your side of the world,
I pulled down your stockings... there were wide runs all over them.
Do you want the white of my flesh? you asked.
I stood up and further ripped your blouse
pulling along the one visible white cup of your bra
regarding the tiny blue veins of your breast pulsing
as they pumped fresh supplies of blood into a nipple
demanding the pity of my touch... such cruelty in my ignorance of the plea,
my rampant fingers destroying the other half of the bra
dark red stains threatening to explode through your skin
and straight into my mouth.
Damn you, you screamed against my neck, your canines penetrating
and our hands taking hold of each otherís waistlines
in one savage pull our nakedness joined
and the stank of burning clothes charred our arms to the elbow.
The cruelty of ignorance replaced by the cruelty of conquest
melting tiles cracking in a cacophony of mutilation
a black funnel descending around us
as our bodies inhaled the hiding sunís threshing corona
and next dayís comatose dawn
enthraled to be touched by the reaperís long blade.
What eye color shall I wear now? you asked,
painting circles around the corner of my mouth with your tongue.
Kaleidoscope, I answered,
watching imploding galaxies and exploding buds
playing havoc in your eyes and on my brains.
You are... I started, and you placed a shushing finger on my mouth,
Please, donít break the magic, you implored.
I removed your finger ever so gently, placed it once upon each of my eyes,
then placed it on my left nipple,
I wanted you to feed my heart with memories.
You are woman, I said,
and you smiled.
You put on some of my clothes,
a t-shirt, a pair of jogging pants... I donít need more... you said
when I asked what about shoes and underwear.
I stopped you for a moment, before you fully pulled down the t-shirt,
tracing the intricated topography around the maturity of your breasts,
skin deep valleys and dull stains decorating the skinís
otherwise snow whiteness, other lines running around your abdomen...
Birth giving marks, flesh deformation marks, gravitation age marks, you smiled, unembarrassed.
Life marks, I admited,
and you thanked me sucking my lungs into your mouth for one last time.
Gravitation will never touch my inner side, you added,
and fell through the hole in my world back to your world.
I keep sending you words.
One day we may unbury this hole again,
or we may forget where we hid those spades,
or that there ever were spades, who knows?
I will never forget the color of your eyes, though...
Whatever your covet is...