She Calls Me
She calls my name with her hair, going up towards the jealous sky; belly, keeping the temptation sharp; wide hips, making the perfect infinity sign; legs, rooting in the fertile soil and arms, twisting in various directions as a young bamboo. She calls my name and I see how the letters disappear into her soft as pudding belly button. In the shape of a tornado, heat flares from the sole of my feet to the crown of the head, leaving nothing in its path. She calls me. I find myself mesmerized by her belly button, realizing how the self-control of a civilisation begins to melt as honey in a tea. My clothes follow it shortly afterwards as they restrict the movement of the heart, breaching out from my chest like an alien in the famous movie. I can sense it crawling in my stomach, around the lungs, kicking bowls and torturing kidneys. As in the fire-warden class, I roll from one side to the other, but it helps little. She continues to peel me off. The thing inside begins to scratch my bones with its sharp nails. Her belly button is so close that I can see the colour of my eyes. And in it, the whole universe with galaxies, planets, stars, black holes and the unknown. I can recognize myself in my mother’s womb. I put two fingers deep in my throat, wishing to keep myself together. Convulsions begin to appear and play, I take a hand of soil and clean my throat, allowing it to sink deep, to fertilise my organs and reply to her call.
Mantas Stockus is a Malta-based Lithuanian. He has an MA in Modern and Contemporary Literature and Criticism from the University of Malta. Mantas is particularly interested in thought-provoking writing and haiku poetry.
The Ekphrastic Review
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