Mirrors on the Ceiling

Backwards and upside down in the twilight, that man on all fours, his head dangling and suffused, his lean haunches, the area of darkness, the flanks and ass narrow and pale as a deer’s and those testicles hanging down toward the center of the earth like plummets.

 

 

When I swayed from side to side they swayed, it was so dark I couldn’t tell if they were silver, or primrose, or plum. I cannot get over moving toward her upside down in the mirror like a fly on the ceiling, his head hanging down and his tongue long and dark as an anteater’s going toward her body. He was so clearly an animal. he was an Apache creeping naked and noiseless, and when I looked at him he looked at me so directly, his eyes so dark, his stare said to me I belong here, this is mine.

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