Poetry

A Thousand Selfies

Each time you send a selfie
is virtual “Make love to me!”
Have a thousand images of you
Each one the same and yet a different view
Of your heart, soul, masculine mystery insinuating a clue.

Yet I feel I can never unravel
The height and width
The whys and hows of who you are to me
Until my last breath.

Come, slide your hands on my plains, valleys and plateaus
Let us navigate the sea of our desire
Explore the new land
Conquer our body’s wisdom
Which to the world seems foolish
Invade realms the righteous dare not tread
in this time of covid-19 we all dread.

But would you come inside me, Beloved?
Come, fathom the core
Emerge renewed with every thrust,
Fulfilled yet all the more starved, unquenched
Anguished with split-second taste of what’s divine.

Oh could we ever consummate
this destiny we neither love nor hate?
Who — is it I or you — could circumvent our sacred fate?
Let us risk one moment in this lifetime or
Would we rather grieve on our graves when it’s too late?
Meanwhile, send me again your new selfie todate…

• Cymbeline Villamin