One May Eve

Let us undo these strands that knotted by itself the moment we whispered cool breaths into each other’s dry mouth. Take the next flight home and leave me with nothing but a pen and paper, pairing vowels and consonants, gathering them like constellations which I will seek out in case it gets too dark.

Because you probably won’t remember. 

It was one May eve when it happened and it needed no magic, no science, nothing needing of knowledge and years of hard study like a college degree. It was a force of earth that gave us a push and suddenly swung us into bed. There were no required rules of tongue and hand games but just the pure and raw want to collapse into each other’s trembling arms and drown out the voice of God who watched us in silent anger as we, now like Adam and Eve heeding the serpent’s wisdom, gyrate to the rhythm of the planets, chests heaving with the silent pull of the supermoon that candled the evening as we fuck our mouths and brains out. I am at once in the midst of sin as I always am, nothing different from how I threw myself a year ago, forever ago. It was just you and me, suddenly metamorphosed into winged creatures sans the halos. And we do not despair, do not regret, do not blow each other’s guts out and begged for love. “There was no love!” I shouted loud enough for my central nervous system to catch it. And yet something inside me stirred. It could’ve just been a laugh rising from the pit of my stomach, a much needed punctuation to complete this lie.

    

 May 10, 2012

painting: Marc Chagall's "Lovers in the Moonlight"