that which opens

knife:

bladed edge

sharp point

wicked sliver

wooden handle

cold heavy long large drawing all attention.

Can't stop looking at it. In her hands.

pressure:

what really matters.

movements ungraceful, everyday.

coming in spurts.

lines of burning cold follow the first stinging wave.

I am afraid, and she smiles.

boy:

long, white,

elbows and knees,

writhing under the knife, under her.

He gasps and moans and clutches at the sheets.

blood:

tracks of it,

long streaks,

red red red red

all over him and her and the knife.

On her hands. She plays in it, and when it dries her hands turn brown.

touch:

pain + longing + arousal + caress + need + force + squirm + soft + cold + pleasure + bite

clean:

it stings. his stings worse.

"I'm a considerate sadist."

tissues turn brown, too.

sleep:

my back stings.

mattress upholstery scrape on dry feet,

sheets,

blanket,

cold.

bodies to either side.

elbows.

I wake up and the light is back, warm, bright. Reality. The Morning After.

the last:

the boy is gone. now just us.

"You okay?"

i don't know. now, yes.

later, no. (not at all.)

hug.

goodbye.

no mention of further meetings.

I leave her bedroom, into the hall, down the stairs, out to the car. Start the car. Feel the furrows there, stinging. Leave.

I leave.

I leave her. I can't leave myself.

the After:

What is this thing in me now uncovered? It leaks out through the cuts, and I can't put it back. It flows out and makes shapes.

phantom wings sprouted from cut:  desire (soft leathery and sharp)

now:

I want it to bleed.

***