He came to me in his frontal-parietal-temporal-occipital-cerebellum mantle, the wispy wool of his scalp bleached like the heavens he separated from the Earth, from me.
I could not come to Him.
For the seam in my side sang its dirge for its stolen eleventh son, and how could I come to His perfection in my incompleteness, with this forbidden fruit under my larynx at which Wisdom should weep, but she does not?
Before I took my first breath, I tasted His in my mouth, His lips molding to mine, but the spark between my finger and His digitus paternae dexterae asks if I am made in His image anymore.
About the Creator
Wen Xiaosheng
I'm a mad scientist - I mean, film critic and aspiring author who enjoys experimenting with multiple genres. If a vial of villains, a pinch of psychology, and a sprinkle of social commentary sound like your cup of tea, give me a shot.
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Center Stage with Gina C.
*** I'm keen to republish the interviews I did for my series with Vocal creators. It's been a few years and I thought it might be nice to revisit these wonderful conversations. I'll be releasing them one at a time for a few weeks/months.
By Heather Hubler5 days ago in Interview
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Michelangelo, 1512