this means that tomorrow I will probably break 20,000 words. I should be proud to have done this much during a moving month
There wasn’t much talking. I have never seen a woman this close up. When she stood next to me some kind of magic was happening. I felt like nothing mattered but her. She took me to her home and then we were taking off our clothes. I’m not sure if I had never made love before. It all seemed very natural but I wasn’t able to recall any previous experience to compare it with. All I knew was that in that moment she was the most important thing in the world to me and whatever or wherever I had come from didn’t matter as much. While I held her I could let go of my fear, my anger and my past whatever it was.
And when it was finished, I held her. She never challenged me about the scarf. She let me wear it. But she wanted a kiss so I asked her to close her eyes tight. She did. I trusted her, never a question of my trusting her. She was true. Shw was pure pure like sky cloudless sky nothing like I had been led to believe…wait led to believe who would have know to convince me that she was not true. She was blinded temporarily I kissed her and the disturbing hiccup of history was smoothed over like ice cream on the tongue. She told my breathe was cold and it remnded her of the sea. Now, that I remember the sea no so long ago either she apinted this beautiful pictures in mind of the way she believed the sea to be and lands beyond this desert, the lands that were…hers…yes…hers…not mine, but even if they were hers I think she might never see them. So why take away her allusions, why ruin it for her, she has so little here and appears to have just lost her mother, why take away those dreams. Because!!!...what? There it is again. A voice. Angry hateful. I hold her and rebandage my mouth and chin this seems to help with the voice. And then I leave to go outside I want to see the stars to see if they remind me of something I want them to be my stars I want to catch a glimpse of a constellation and go oh yes that it mine that is familiar, I’ve sleep comfortable as child under those stars. But no. It wasn’t like that.
There was the sand in here backyard and a small indentation. It wasn’t where the grave was thankfully the cacti marked that oh my god what would she have thought if I had accidentally unearthed that, it was at the property edge. A small dip in the earth a dip that beconed to me almost as strongly as nightingale, but having just had my appetites for her sasiated the desire for that concave bit of earth was overwhelming. It was cold in the esert night not for her but for me and that idea that that concave was warm or a pathway to warmth and that I could do something with it. So I got down on my belly and rubbed my way gentle like over to it I spun and spun in it I got the dirt under my fingernails and my in between my toes and then I started to dig. And the voice of anger inside attempted to make peace with me and thanked me for digging. I asked the voice or voices why and they said because that is why you are here to dig. Voice voice I heard voices of some distant relatives. Nightebgale she hears voices too fo her govt talking to her through the tv. She hasn’t told me, but I knew that it will happen I have been briefed…I have?
Yes…it will all come to light my brother. I say this outloud to myself in the hole. She is outside wants to come into my hole with me, and the voice I know but don’t know at the same time asks her to stay outside the hole. The hole is ot for her. It is for the seven. Seven snakes. Seven borthers, of one mother sent to see than sinner dine in hell. Sinners. Sinners this word escapes my lips in hisses as I dig and dig in a direction that instinct dictates.
I wont let the those voices spill her blood. No they agree not that. Why? What is she that she stopped you from digging. Really am I asking my voices that or vice versa. Sinners Sinners Vice Versa over and over. And now hands full of snad I see mother again. She is smiling even as six cradles rocking angrily behind her. It is ok my sons. Don’t fret amongst yourself you are seven sons and must walk and eat and breath together. That is what your mother wants. Do what mother wants. Sinner Sinner. I don’t know how long I’ve been in this hole. I pretend that I am digging a tunnel to heaven where there sits my nightingale and she splits like an atom into multiple mighengales all as soft and mirror reflections of her. All wanting me to fertizle them. All wanting to make a new world in this desert. A world of love where brothers need not furrow there brows in fear anf anger but can tame the wind and the sun and climb and burrow into the heavens and feed on eggs and not worry about who sees them feeding. Not to be ashamed of there jaws. Seven brothers and seventy thousand sons. Oh my. But only with my nightingale now no other will do.