Lorenzo Buford
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He wanted to kiss me;
and I let him; but when I kissed him back, I pulled the wind from within him; and he struggled for air as my embrace wrapped itself around him. I wanted him to no longer breathe from the outside but within, from the eye within his mind so I took the breathe from the outside of him; and he withered like a plant without sun, without land; and I became the darkness that clouded him; the abyss he feared but sought when last call was whispered in his intoxicated ears. But he pushed me back. He feared this kiss, and the black shimmering cloud that I am rose from within him; and he called out to all his gods as I fell out of him and back on to the bed where I am existing in so many times and places and I curled up into my feline position. as my cat eyes saw through his darkness and he yelled, "What are you? What do I need from you?" His sex whispered to me, "Kiss me Death. Let me drink the ambrosia from your kiss." And he feared his apparitions rising from the cemetery in his mind where I sat on a gravestone in my wolfen form pawing at the keys floating in front of me. These keys would unlock his four minds. And I was becoming him to know his nature, while howling at the moon that was the night eye of the Mother. And in my feline form, I knew his other names. Some of them stood like dead trees, like headless statutes, or like mausoleums for parts that he denied and exiled. All were in ruins in his temple graveyard where he laid dead but dreaming. I called the Name that held the names. But he feared the apocalypse of the flesh and threw paper money at me like stones treating me like a sacred shape-shifting prostitute. And I gathered his skin that he shed after each life and made wings for my feline forms. My mouth held the spiraling angels that will become consorts in my underworlds where I am a transient passenger. And now, I sit in my apartment, curled up like a cat licking the wounds. And my hands are between my legs remembering how the phallic has been squared into stone and an ancient face has been inscribed on it and it is weeping dust. I stretch yawn purr and claw at the night air waiting for him to come again as a stranger to lay under me and know the kiss of Lillith that will make him wings of light. |
