Always Without An Explanation

Last night, when the horizon started to fall, you said open the curtains; the room is taking on smoke. It’s good you can see celestial burn holes, the gateway. Don’t stay all night, just for now, then get out of town, drive to the Italian place where we were threatening to kill each other because love is to fear like salt is to water. If you love me whisper into my ear, tell me what you are going to do to me, make shivers run down my life and lock the door. I am not just imagination stalking the night. Under the house black widows shine their bellies and wait. So much of life isn’t allowed. I know you and I are wrong, just not enough to expose righteousness. You want more. Neither one of us can live on the outside, separate and aloof. I have to breathe and know you by your scent. I want what goes on when snow falls for hours and blankets the earth. My body is the only country you need. I am liquid, water and salt, your touch the shadow I remember, my hair black water spilling across your shoulders. I want to touch you with my teeth, along your collarbone, your mouth until you tell me to come here. Tangled in white sheets, snow falling, a blizzard more hushed than church, no words, just skin against skin, all the warmth I ever wanted. Your breathing quickens as you discover yet again the curve of my back, the inside of my thigh, territory you thought you knew, wild and surprising as the river melting snow, each time in a different way, always without an explanation.


-Mary Julia Klimenko 2015