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by Alison Daniel |
Diaphanous Daze Night after night the moon trembles between his foreskin peeled back from teeth so that all I see is the translucent glow of stretched skin. I imagine an apparition of my unevil twin partaking in that act you may remember the way my head bobbed up and down, or the sudden lengthening of my neck, maybe the way the hallway light cast shadows on the bedroom wall. There always seemed to be too many arms and legs, almost as if there were four of us, or more, and this makes me think tonight, I know you're with her. Pedestal How awkward is this touch, this desire for intimacy, the soft edges deciphering skin. Take it off, disintegrate, dissolve. Be one beloved breath in the bed of possibility when we glimpse that place we cannot tell man nor woman. Remembering the glance, eyes open to surrender nothing you or I may wish to sacrifice or give as a gift to play dualistic words. Those shades and shadows when I sit in your lap straddling your waist with my legs. In and out, in and out, we are the inseparable one. Ten Branches Ten branches drink holy water under the Wish-Granting Tree of inarticulate cosmology, an offering to the mesmerist closing the hole of my fontanel. He tries to catch the garland, the one thousand petals of the lotus flower bitten by death's enigmatic smile. Surely, this is not the fate of oblivion when I've seen the rivulets of sweat streak meridian creases across the strain of his neck. A strange clairvoyance enters his head, perhaps a result of the datura flower causing contemplation, or an act of contemplation capable of what? He says I'm not pure. He says to be purified I'll need to kiss his auspicious past, to understand what it means to study the diaphragm as if every breath is a stimulant for ten million stars cowering in the darkness of his heart.
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