We Cannot Transcend The Bodies That Trap Us


I don’t know why I followed
30 somethings Christian virgins in my free time

Adriana Lima and Rebecca St James come
To mind here. I don’t know why I used

To pilgrim through the 30 year old virgins websites
In my leisure time. I didn’t know why

I had a subscription for E-Harmony for a year.
It seems unicorns were hard to come by.

The idea of two unicorns coming together
Has so much embedded beauty, like a perfect eclipse

One not knowing the celestial boundaries
Of another. Perfectly merging like a lunar eclipse.

Too much in loon to understand the flow and ebb
Of unreason. When prude becomes crude.

After all, we cannot transcend the bodies that trap us.
The body that pleads for a body as pure as yours.

And what is more beautiful, that the untouched
Grafted by lip-flow, even molested by acuity.

When the fir of unicorns turn red as a bloody moon.
And the cheeks are blood oranges.

And we’re what are bodies tell us, the whispers that haunt us
The screams that free us, the silence that preserves us.

The protracted waits that prime us. It seems
Virginity is the voice of the wild, waiting to unleash the beast

On carnal beds of choice. And when unicorns meet
The flesh transforms to a perfect lull, an endearing silence.

And the bodies that trap us, free us.
As myth turns to factuality. Legend becomes folklore.

And fabled unicorns transform to innocuous rhinoceroses
On a creaking marriage bed.


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