The Wheel of Desire
By Emmett Stinson
her body looks like this
and when your fingertips
expand to touch the whiteness of the flesh you remember that
eternity
doesn’t mean forever but existing outside of time as you stroke the curves
surrounding her hips you know what it means to hear the chorus of heavenly
angels
singing in glorious unison as your hands move ever upward and onward
you caress the
curves of space itself these are the folds of the fabric of
reality the fountains of life that
give humanity its everlasting life the
nectar and ambrosia of the mythological
imagination the alchemy of the
Taoists and you see the nipples that are a shade of pink so
inviolable that
they must be called a different color may transgress the known boundaries
of
color a sensory experience wholly new as the fleshy firmness gives seems to
expand
like stars hurtling away with that tell tale Dopplerian red shift and
beneath is the rumble
of the heart beating that is the pulse of the universe
the pull of the waves that gravity
heaves ever inward and outward inward and
outward in a sublunary tug of war and when
you have entered the holiest of
her alters descended to her depths you find that the
entrance is an exit
that the descent is ever swiftly upward out of the cave of Plato’s
allegory
to where ideas become things in and of themselves and in the merging you
remember that Milton said that when the angels fucked their entire bodies
interpenetrated
each other until they merged into one viscous and seething
being a whole two
emptinesses filling each other with substance and you are
sucking at the tree of life where
the roots have sunk deep in the soil where
you find yourself still sinking until you feel the
clap of thunder the Da
the shuddering that shakes a body the amen the holy holy the
wholly holy
hole so be it so be it so be it till their lingers only the shadow of the
valley of
the shadow of death that follows upon the intensity of all
experiences as you merge back
into life shot from this womb you have ever so
briefly cobbled together as after ascending
and descending in DNA spirals
you know that nothing ever ever will be as it was before
even though it will
be because it has to be and this too shall fade to dusty death you
breathe
the breath that is as it was in the beginning when the first shall be last
and this is what her body looks like
END
Emmett Stinson is a writer in Washington, DC. His work has previously appeared in Pindeldyboz, The Konundrum Engine Literary Review, Nuvein, and Flashquake. You can contact him at mylesnagopleen@yahoo.com.
