He photographs the snake
crawling up her,
-tail tickling her ankle
head nuzzling her calf
Wrapped around and
well-secured by
tiny, inky pinpricks-
So as not to come loose
He wants permanence,
it comforts him;
he uses the word foundation
in the same breath as
relationship,
as if its a house
But this. . .
she lives like a storm
fierce even in her sleep
strong even in his dreams
It can't come off
he thinks, its permanent
It won't wash off
At once delighted
and horrified
that she'd made a decision
and stuck to it,
but scarification. . .
her ankle held fast
in the strong light
poked, prodded and
in the last needle-stroke
of the tongue
a wince;
blood wells
And at night he dreams:
the snake uncoiling off her ankle
slithering through rumpled sheets
to him
and whispering her secrets and desires;
a child a house a kitten
in blue blur 3 am streetlight
he squats, careless of the lamps
and finds the video;
he seeks catharsis
in recorded history
aboriginal white in his civilized den
he starts the tape,
watches her endure two hours:
pain for beauty.
the video tape at once
soothes and mocks him;
impermanence of flesh
but this. . .
flesh made plastic
long after he forgets
how to remember
the tape will remind him-
unnatural in its
tenacity
his own organic form will
forget his shape
long before the image
stretches and the tape breaks-
she'll outlast him still
plastic made flesh
And still he dreams:
the snake uncoiling off her ankle
slithering through rumpled sheets to him
and calling out
her secret desires and thoughts;
a porch a marriage a garden
convincing in its insistence
night after night
he waits for her even breathing
and hears only sinuous movement;
strains to hear the whisper
tangled in the sheets,
and forgets to breathe
he's still
by Johnise MolloyBACK to Wright's Erotic Gallery