(no subject)
This will be in Monday's issue of the Union at Cal State Long Beach. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it. It yearns to be developed, but they needed a short piece - in fact they preferred a poem.
[The sound of a baby crying]
Suddenly my eyes were open, and I dearly regretted it. The white popcorn ceiling, the white walls, the white comforter, the white sheets, the silky white skin of her bare back lightly spotted with the faintest freckles. My hand slowly crossed the dark space between our bodies, perched up on her hip, looked around and slid over to the other side. I moved my body in closer and closer, as close as I could without actually becoming her. A fragrance of pure warmth and consolation wrapped itself around my face like a shawl and I immediately fell away from my body as it stirred with a buzz that illuminated from my head and outwards to some point unrelated to my flesh. Wake up. Please wake up. My fingertips dip weightlessly into her belly button, trace the invisible silk hairs and stray across to her hip bone and follow its curve towards flesh even more soft and welcoming. My hand pulls away as I turn over and release a sigh. My face is hot, my eyes unseeing and my fingers find their way up to the top of my head, knotting themselves and pulling out the roots from the soft moist soil of my scalp.