ukiyo
“All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.”
the streets are caked and dirty. no. wait. that is the metal tracks outside my room. the skylight was installed ten years ago. the sky fell and pigeons collided and the brackets are filled with shit. i’m careful to wash the soles of my powder blue slippers. each step has taken me from British Columbia, Arizona, Los Angeles, New York, Switzerland, Spain, and Beyond. I rub my feet and shins with oil scented by the magnolia though the scent of the animal tracks me no matter where I roam.
is the outcome of the universe proposed by each finger? ego versus enlightenment. I type with both hands and have nothing to hold my coffee. wait, I’m taking a sip. wait. wait. it's too hot. i’m training my body to respond to the cream. do not boil the milk. it curdles as the blood when the lover snatches the bedclothes. I sleep alone and have no one to fight beside.
I read that Hilda Hilst took her lovers one by one by the teeth like peeling the skin from a grape. wait. wait, I made that up. if I wed, it will be to a body who wants their own mattress. room. hallway. kitchen. garden. the last boy I slept beside barely made a sound. i’d fling out an arm to be sure he was alive. to be sure I was alive. breathing. in and out. up and down. i’d take his skin in my hand and rub until he roused. checking temperature is for the children. I measure life by hardness.
I used to walk in the rain with a green rubber coat and black rubber shoes. I used to lick the pacific coast water from my coffee cup before taking a sip. I’d order a buttered croissant, tear little bits, and feed them to Jackson. he’d be strapped to my belly with legs swinging at each hip. i’d feel his heart flutter against mine and his nose press to my sternum. wait, I’d say, when he started to cry. just wait. i’d walk faster to create a rocking motion to lull his lithe body to sleep. i’d match my rhythm to each wave in the slow stroll from Kitsilano beach to Granville island.
pleasure seeker. uncorked. I met a boy who’d been burned by hot stones. an acupuncturist had layered the heated rocks down the length of his spine. between shoulder blade to buttock. she left the room to check the laundry and he endured the pain thinking it was part of the presentation. he had a layer of red and brown blotches like the osteoderms on the dinosaurs back. a suit of armour. when I asked him why he didn’t call out, he said he didn’t want to make the woman.
wait.
Photo source.
