Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Outpost 5

They were still breathing heavy, her on top, drops of sweat falling from her chin to splash on his forehead. He held her breasts in his hands. She was still moving on him, slowly, in a tight, circular motion, lowering her long apache hair like damp rope onto his chest when she kissed him. Outside a gust of wind slammed the shed door shut and scared the pup they'd picked up from the shelter in Alpine that morning into nervous yelping. They heard him arrive at the door, the whimpering. She looked in that direction.

Let him in? 

He stared at her profile before answering, wondered what she'd say if he told her he saw light like a halo about her head. Marfa lights, probably. Her sense of humor just one spell she'd cast upon him.

No, he said. Not right yet. He knew he'd be hard again soon. In his mind he'd already turned her onto her belly and propped a pillow under her hips. She called it part of their synastry, and explained a little about it, the blending of elements and energy, yin and yang, court and spark, the up and down and in and out of it. He just knew it worked.  

She turned back to him and stared, eyes dark pools with a splash of moonlight in through the window upon their surface. She pressed heavier and faster and flung her hair back over a shoulder. As he grew inside her she began to rock back and forth up and down his pelvis, slowly, grinding into him, the puppy silent now in the hallway. He began to thrust back. She put her breasts in his face and he grabbed her ass and spread her cheeks wide and buried himself into her before putting one hand to where they were joined and with the other bringing each nipple in turn to his tongue. 

She came quickly, surprising herself, giggling a little like a reflex after the gasp and moan and his name whispered with her eyes closed. He lifted her off him and she followed his guide and lay down on her stomach, grabbing the edge of the mattress and squeezing when he placed the pillow and entered slowly. 

The dog barked once, when the clapping of flesh and slamming of headboard was most furious, like the train from Del Rio passing outside, rattling shelves and bones and china tea cups. She muttered oh my fucking god through clenched teeth, turning back to meet his gaze, seeing him staring at where they were joined. He spanked her once, for the first time, looked up from his fixation for her reaction to see her smiling. In five hours they would be in church, each dropping a dollar into the bucket when it passed down the pew. They would be holding hands and he would do his best to join her in the hymnal when it was time to stand and sing. Each would have a bible in hand.   

When he came he called her name. He hadn't thought to and he barely recognized the voice that half-yelled it out. She said yesss. 

That morning the preacher spoke of conjugal love, and used the example of a husband and wife building their home together a day and night at a time, and the home being a temple, and the place of the marriage bed in relation to sacred union with God. At the end they turned to one another and said with everyone else, Amen, then went home, took the puppy for a jog and then each other to the shower.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Lilith

i go to the cards
to ask about lilith
back of the house
banging the door

she's set fire to the yard
i draw the high priestess
lilith shouts out
let's settle the score

it's initiation
she shrieks like a banshee
face pressed to the glass
courtney fucking love

shit situation
one of those things
that climbs up your ass
like a cold sharp glove

i say i'll get my gun
she says it's in her hands
i can come and get it
if i'm up for the dance

it'll be fun
the priestess suddenly stands
you'd love me if you let it
grow in your pants

frothing at the mouth
fingering herself
talking tongues to the cat door
then the witch is in

it started down south
went somewhere else
she says all she wants is more
and she'll start with my skin

Saturday, February 23, 2013

true story

so, just moved to berkeley. (okay, albany.) into a three-bedroom on marin up from san pablo, with a couple guys who are in school there, like my brother jay.

anyway. i'm on a stool and hanging my betty blue poster. my futon mattress is on the hardwood floor, and some boxes.

i drop the nail and hear it ping on the floor. i hear it ping and roll away, and i get down from the stool to look for it. but i can't find it. i look everywhere and it is nowhere to be seen. lift the mattress, the boxes, break down the floor into sections and scan each thoroughly. nothing but hardwood.

i have to leave. i'm meeting someone in the city. i'll get another nail and hang betty later. i drive over the bridge to san francisco, come back hours later.

there's the nail.

standing on its tip in the middle of the floor, that far from levitating. just on its tip, standing straight up and down, not in the floor, on it. like a match waiting to be lit, or a nail saying, wanna try again?

i got others.