taking care of the place
to her hinge
Just found a line in a notebook which I wrote, on July 15 last year, and I’ve no idea what I might have meant by it. ‘In the mornings/we are proud of his everyday miracle together.’ Is it about sex? I guess it must be. My relationship was in the throes of some difficulties and a page later on July 20 I find, ‘his insignificant other.’ Then a cry from the heart, not mine, but which I wrote down after it came from the mouth that had applied itself to another woman’s hinge: “My beautiful Cathoel.”
Even then, I was glad of the possessive.
To be possessed, whilst remaining free and sovereign: isn’t this the essence of sexual love.
You might also like to read:
I have this really long poem which I have rewritten decisively - indecisively - thoroughly over about four or five years. It's five pages long and it's called Reaching for the Remote - about our ...read more
I have no depth and everything within me is shallow and small. I waste this only thing time. I spend it as a charity on stultifying trivialities all pettifogging at the window's pain like untrue ...read more
When a poet walks into a printer's and says, I have written a book, I want to publish it, their eyes light up like neon stars. "It has to be on sumptuous papers and beautifully ...read more