He was a gnostic par excellence. He loved Hellenistic Alexandria, a place where syncretism, with its unbelievable superposition of religions, grew like oyster mushrooms. Think fleshy greyish-brown, yellow, and pink colors one on top of each other.
During winters, the ghosts of the Alexandrian carnival, inscribed in colored tiles, mesmerized him. They lived in his mind like relics in churches, wrapped in scents of myrrh, overwhelmed by veneration, buried under the kisses and the requests of those who believed in miracles.
Carnival: late Latin expression meaning carne levare, “remove meat.” Some will say “farewell to meat.”
Ah, the famous libertinism of Carpocrates. He did not believe in it. The sweetness of the flesh meant little to him. And I am coming to what you want to know, am I not? You want to know why he loved me so much and how he conceived of our relationship.
Turn around. Breathe the smell of grass growing on old tombs: tombs of saints, madmen, oracles. Remember, the wish to die is as natural as erotic impulses.
I will blindfold you. You will take your shirt off. I will drop on your chest the unadulterated coolness of the morning dew.
In silence I will shade my skin between the gates of heaven and those of hell. The sun will set on my plump and humid lips. You can touch my waist with the fingers of your right hand. You can go down to the middle of my left thigh. You cannot deviate. I am forever yours if the tip of your fingers can read the patterns inscribed on my thigh. Do it and I will kill his memory.
What is going to happen if you cannot read with the tip of your fingers? Oh, I’ve always believed that after death souls go to the moon.
For crying out loud, I am joking. Stop looking at my legs.
I know you love me. He loved me too. I am who I am and who I am is hidden from view.
Now, can I get a drink from the bar? And really those devil eggs look so good.
excerpt from my book in progress: Remembrance of Love [working title]
My book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, can be ordered here.
@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)