I devour, devour. How it will end, I don’t know.
Pasolini
*
Sad boy. Sex is so easy. I can open my legs and save you. It is
so little for me to do. I know so much.
Sad boy. Desperate child. Gentle soul. Too much respect.
Afraid to violate. But sex is violation. I read it in books. I
learned it somewhere. I show you how: and I devour, devour.
There is an endless abundance of it, with no limits. I am a
woman. This is what I was born to give. How it will end, I
don’t know.
*
Then I can’t understand anymore. This isn’t what I meant. I
am so hurt, the cuts, the sores, the bleeding, let me sleep. You
are hard now, my husband: let me sleep: I beg: an hour, a
minute. I love life so fiercely, so desperately: I mean the physical facts of life: I want to make you happy: I don’t want to die: the fists pounding, wild, enraged: sex was always so easy: it
costs me nothing, and there is an endless abundance of it, with
no limits: and I didn’t want you to suffer, to die. How it will
end now, I don’t know.
*
The bed: I show you everything: every wild game: soon we
drop the scripts and just tie the knots: how to penetrate: how
to move, when, even why: every nerve: pretending to pretend
so it isn’t real: pretending to pretend but since we do what we
pretend in what sense are we pretending? You pretend to tie
me up, but you tie me up. I am tired of it now. I do what you
need, tired of the repetition, you learn by rote, slowly, like in
the third grade, not tone deaf but no genius of your own: the
notes, one by one, so you can get hard. You get hard. Now
85
you’re not pretending. I don’t know how it will end. I am
waiting for it to end. I know what I want: to get to the end:
you will tell me when the game is finished: is it over? are you
hard?
*
He is normal now, not impotent and suicidal, but in a rage:
my normal, human husband who gets hard: he is in a rage,
like a mad dog. This isn’t what I meant. I love life so fiercely,
so desperately: I thought only good could come of it: sex is so
easy: there is an abundance of it, without limits: I teach him
what I know: he needed a little more confidence, so reader, I
married him. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. Believe me, not
them: the normal, human husband with normal, human rage:
little girl saints of sex with your philosophy, little darlings,
when what’s inside comes out, be somewhere hidden, chaste,
out of reach: it spilled over: it was rage: it was hate: it was sex:
he got hard: he beat me until I couldn’t even crawl: it costs me
