Skip navigation

Poles

Poles

Two poles, distant and irreconcilable. On one side is what’s noble and exalted and on the other what’s vulgar and subhuman. It’s tiresome switching back and forth between the two opposing modes of being, of seeing, of relating judging and feeling.

One end is the mother and grandmother; the other the mistress, the slut. In one corner the bride stands in sparkling white; in the other she lies naked, the very same night, in her husband’s bed.

I picture your open arms longing for my embrace, stretched as big as your love, spanning one pole to the other.

I also picture your legs, also open, wide as the poles themselves, longing for another embrace; one that’s less talked about but as original and natural as the other one.

How we morph our interaction from the field of one pole to the other is the art called relationship.

Leave a Reply

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *
*
*

Powered By Indic IME