Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The Erotic Manifesto

By Chaia Heller

run after your passion
tail gate her till she pulls over
and confronts you with shaking fists
stalk her down some empty corridor of your life
step on the back of her sneakers
till she turns around and startles you.
do not be surprised if she spits in your face
like a rude stranger,
she does not trust you
for the best reasons.
you who have been schooled to hate her
you who have been fooled to betray her
you whose father defaced her

go after your passion
seduce her back into your life
with baskets of raw wool
comb her fingers through it
slide it along the edge of her nose
invite her into your room
and offer her raspberries
gathered in a lavender bowl
pour cream over them
eat half, use the rest to dye her hair
and after, go swimming
let the water whip off your backs
open your legs to its cool tongue
let it sing to you in gospel

run after your pleasure
she is smarter than you
she is insightful
and full of incentive
she will incite a riot
incense an entire city
she will invite you
to write a manifesto
of your every desire
on plum colored paper
spend five afternoons
postering it everywhere
in bus stations and bathrooms
cafes and churches
and best of all, she will send each pink paper
to everyone you have ever known;
family, friends, employers and acquaintances
till you will never be able to go back to your life
except to those who love her, too

once you think you have won her
it will be she who has won you
you will become her
strutting down a street bare breasted and oiled
your hair short
to expose the defiant neck,
the fierce shoulders
the bold belly
you will be banging a drum loudly,
with one hundred women
till it shatters windows, bricks fall
unfasten every snap of your life,
the ones that bind you most,
the tight weave of night,
the dead-bolt on the apartment door
unfasten the eight, consecutive, stolen hours
that take you away from the single fruit of your life;
the runny diapers and noses
go to an all day meeting in the park
feed each other stolen oysters
and erotic poetry
paint a mural as bright as your passions

for the women who cannot be there
for the ones roped to the bed frame
to the assembly line, lassoed by the laundry
-run after your pleasure
she moves with the women who move with you
go where the agenda is your breast, your cunt
your belly, your work
go where the passion is bending
the wires on the cage that binds you
get out, get out, get outraged right out
of any movement that does not crave
this woman you chase now so fiercely
go to her; she is angrier than you
she is louder than you
she is faster than you
chase her as she tears up
the bright, steep stairs
of the fire escape
and just as she is just about to jump into the flames,
shout to her that you will be the fire
and this time
you will burn together

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