The meaning
of our being is in
the insertion.
Thus, I said to
the still hole:
“Let me penetrate
for us to be whole.”
She fell silent
yet gave a blurred
sigh of relent.
With my heightened
hunger, I shoved
myself to her breach.
Frontal push –
I was blocked;
sideways push – slipped;
rotating push – gagged;
wriggling push – choked;
more thrusts – flopped.
“I cannot make us whole,
my dear hole,” I wheezed.
“Oh! I tried hard but failed.
Maybe, yes maybe,
I am the wrong key.”
Suddenly, her opening bled
as she said: “My dear, a solid key
like you, can never be wrong.
It’s just that, yes it’s just that,
I am the wrong hole.”
- Jorge Guerrero
No comments:
Post a Comment