Creation

Creation

 

 

 

She wants to hold his head in her lap and each hand holding a side pull it split-open

Precisely so each cerebellum would be encapsulated like a walnut inside a split shell.

Then she would hold up first the left side and then the right to her eyes so close she

could see what was black and what was right.

Then she would look into the tiny pineal gland of the future and take the pulse of

his darkness and test the depth of his wounds.

She wants to take his head off his body and replace it with one that looks just like

him and carry it home to put on the kitchen counter right between the flour and the sugar.

She wants to further examine him using the ear thing and the light and peer into his

feelings and his history of loyalty to pets and his willingness to brush her hair

until they both crackle.

Then she wants to choose which side she likes best and she wants to go to her linen

closet where, behind the pillowcases, she has other split brains.

She chooses the left side of practical abilities and from the right she chooses lust

but they don’t go together correctly

so she goes to a psychiatrist and asks him to

put them all back together because now it was a big mess.

She forgets what she really wants.

She confesses she longs for the way it was in the beginning.

Then she was back where she started.

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