Tonight I dared to crawl beneath the sheets to be nailed down around me, waiting for my lover, she who enters without knocking, she who will unstitch my every seam along my thigh, my side, my armpit. She who carves a heart out of the heart and drops it down her throat. Sweet surrender this slow death in sleep as I dream the love-making is autopsy. How else will I be hers completely? Be her treasure box I said: a trove of pearls and stones, the ding of coins cascading through her fingers. The bird over her shoulder not a parrot, but an owl to be my mirror when I close my eyes and shape a moon-white bowl out of my face where she can wash the hooks of her caress.
Copyright © 2012 by Rigoberto González. Used with permission of the author.