34) Consummation
Wolran Kim
He comes in me and starts beating up my organs. Is he going to reorganize them again after he turns them upside down under the topaz sunlight? Never knowing that he must want to bury me in sticky sap. Your heart and spleen are supposed to be side by side like this. This is not pain, this is love. Can you still not see a lousy twist of fate? Did you forget that we had promised that we will share a cup of severance in the ocean? We should properly digest from our heart to the bottom of the bladder. Our interbreeding would not be corrupted even though we ruminate in each other’s excretions. On a nail hole, we should make our dream, where we scatter a hundred thousand stars with a hundred thousand bolts, come true. He is spouting from my mouth through my organs. My tunnel finally stretches straight like a plumbing line from my mouth into his organs again. Our Ids are still innocent although they are off the path in each other’s mazes. If his heart is scratched from the corsage on my wrist, we burn each other, pretending our eyes are poked by the reflection of darkness. In the tropical tropics where the conquest of the moment marks territory, right or wrong is not a matter of natural thought. It is made by us. We’re right, but the universe is wrong. We must be noisy and fret. Is an otter, living in a cave around the swamp, excited always? I fall asleep after biting his blood in my mouth. The fact is easy to read and write, but hard to believe. In fact, evolution loves death more than life. We sleep hugging each other’s organs like satyrs. An egg is parasitic to each other. An egg is an aerobic bacterium, flowing into each other. Another ego wiggles and waits to be reborn. Under the dark dyes like acid rain, I’m dreaming of photosynthesis all night. To prove the origin of mitochondria, dreaming of becoming a plant from the beast’s sunshine. In fact, we were originally prokaryotes.
