Academic journal article TriQuarterly

The Substance of Evanescent Things

Academic journal article TriQuarterly

The Substance of Evanescent Things

Article excerpt

Being a romantic is my calling: I ache for victories over time and space.

He said, "Come close. You'll soon be warm." We kissed; I ran to the window panting; he ran after me; my blood sang. I became cooperative, ready to climb onto him and be transported.

He said, "Stand there. I want to stare at you." He asked for everything, offering nothing but the fever patches on his cheeks, his chest with "Dominance" inscribed upon it. I wanted something, too: to enfold him in that room where we never watched our language. He confided in me with his arms and legs; I pressed my mouth against his neck, filled my head with his essence, watched the room go out of focus, let myself be lifted to a sweetness with a self-erasing quality that asked to be repeated. Was it a rush, a splurge, a charge? It left no evidence.

There were some facts: he had skin that blushed, a touching hardness to his bones, a pink appendix scar, an attachment to his limbs, and a face on which he'd written half his story. …

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