Accessibility Tools

  • Content scaling 100%
  • Font size 100%
  • Line height 100%
  • Letter spacing 100%

Miracle Play

by
June 2021, no. 432

Miracle Play

by
June 2021, no. 432

All morning, I read about Christian mystics. After a long bath, I wear a caftan and silver ring.
Intolerable hours of waiting for you. I plunge my hands in ice water.

The sun is red and low when I meet you by the fountain. Houses on steep hills light up. You speak
to me with your deep voice like a man hammering in a forge. I thrill at the sound like a dog.

We watch a miracle play performed by homosexuals. The homosexuals play saints or abstractions.
One man wears antlers braided with holly. Chastened in the last act, a lascivious friar loses his wig.

Longing is simple. However, you are a man with a skeleton, a will, a past. We argue on our way to
your place for dinner. My arm around your waist, drawing you near, is a gesture of peace.

We eat salt-baked branzino stuffed with chilies. We slowly pour cold water into our liquor until it
clouds in the glass. Wind buffets the screen door constantly. I sob in the bathroom.

Feathergrass shifts in the moon’s lean light. It is now so late the exact hour does not matter. Passing
the blunt, you exhale smoke like a sun god. When we kiss I kiss your skull.

From the New Issue

You May Also Like

Leave a comment

If you are an ABR subscriber, you will need to sign in to post a comment.

If you have forgotten your sign in details, or if you receive an error message when trying to submit your comment, please email your comment (and the name of the article to which it relates) to ABR Comments. We will review your comment and, subject to approval, we will post it under your name.

Please note that all comments must be approved by ABR and comply with our Terms & Conditions.