So White

So White
Mariano Zaro

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

And it’s true. It’s a very white, thick semen, without shadow of yellow. I touch it.

–  It’s like a warm snow flake. I say.

You must be a poet. He says.  A bad poet.

 

 

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

Is “white” a compliment? He asks.

 

 

3.

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

He delivers a single, lazy drop that stays on his belly solid, bright as a polished pebble. We look at it, quietly. The drop liquefies, becomes transparent and rolls over his hip leaving a silky trail.

 

 

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

I’m not sure. I cannot really distinguish the colors. But I always say “white.” White is the color that makes him happy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

5.

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

It looks even whiter splattered in my pubic hair. He takes a damp, warm towel and cleans me up. He hangs the towel in the window, like a coat of arms. It’s day time already. A fire engine passes and returns us to reality.

 

 

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

He doesn’t care. He pulls up his pants, grabs his car keys from the night table, runs to the door and calls somebody on his cell phone. He leaves a certain scent in the air, like apricots on a top branch. Fruits I cannot reach.

 

 

7.

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

He presses my lips with his rough thumb. I am afraid all of a sudden. I don’t know if I’m afraid of his strength or his tenderness.

 

 

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

It’s simple, just eat a lot of almonds. Almonds make good semen, that’s all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

He cannot hear me. Sometimes it happens. He tenses his neck and stretches all muscles. His body shakes in small convulsions and makes a noise like a dying animal. He doesn’t hear anything then, nothing.

 

 

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

How can you tell? He says.

A mouth never forgets the taste of white, I want to answer.

 

 

11.

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

Do you think we can leave a little earlier tomorrow morning? He asks.

And that’s the way it is; parallel lines, no hope for intersection.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

And he covers it with his hands as if embarrassed by his body.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

My father used to tell me the same thing.

I don’t ask for specifics.

 

 

14.

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

Yours is not. He replies.

 

 

15.

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

He laughs under the blankets. It’s so cold. We use all the blankets in the house. That house of his in the countryside, with no heating, poor plumbing and long mornings without destination.

 

 

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

I always have to say something. I fear silence. Silence has been many times the first sign of pain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17.

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

Your semen is going to be so white, I should say. I can predict his body with all its rivers, all its clouds.

 

 

18.

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

It’s easy to have proof of his body. Not so easy to have proof of his desire.

 

 

19.

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

The smell clean and dirty, at the same time

 

 

Your semen is so white. I tell him.

He hugs me tight and starts to cry. He becomes small and frail wrapped around my legs, like a child abandoned in the rain.

 

 

 

 

 

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