within my heart is a knot of desire
that, unfolded, becomes his voice of disapproval
i reach out to her, but she pulls away, angered.
for she heard and saw all i did, all i said and thought
and so she does not speak to me, and turns her face from mine,
jealous at my perceived infidelity
and this voice who disapproves
and this maid who turns away
have become my other side
but not in a satanic way
then i move higher, and then she comes to me again
no longer jealous now, instead determined
to show me what i was missing
she emerges, almost visible, as i lay back
she emerges with control over my flesh, a dominatrix of the deen,
and thus she moves over and above me and begins to reveal
fragments of her star whiteness, to expose a portion of her curvature
but she does not, yet, permit the taste of that naked reception.
she moves her celestial face close to mine, mouth to mouth,
and she enters into me, hovering, pure white aura,
just an atom’s breadth above my body
so it would be easy to mistake her for nothing.
and she awaits my action, silently expectant.
confounded, i ask for further revelation and in willing supplication,
i draw a short breath, which i understand now is the meaning of my hand’s caress,
for a wave of pleasure is drawn from her reception.
yes, she has granted me access and control entirely
and so i draw a long breath, whose explicit inhalation leads
her voice outward in a cry of ecstasy.
and then touch becomes rough and dominant across her scripture,
as she wants it, as i need it.
and breath becomes brave, so is drawn from its sheath
to take her into cycles upon her seasons
of action and response and climax
to design reciprocal resonance that continues on outward
her cry making echos of the universe’s inception
and i understand this is what i was missing.
then this fades away, the echos merge with my ordinary reality
and my secret bride becomes hidden and shy again, behind her veil
because others will soon be present.
but she has divided somehow into several women, from celestial book
to scriptures of time
and now i am just another bespectacled librarian, pouring over them with an academic’s eye,
my wives, my slave girls,
these christian women, these jewish women, these muslim women
for i have moved from the queen’s bedchamber into the harem of the king’s library
and in verse ponder the nature of fidelity
that she should be jealous, yet now divides herself in such a manner!