Climbing You by Erica Jong
I want to understand the steep thing that climbs ladders in your throat. I can't make sense of you. Everywhere I look you're there-- a vast landmark, a volcano poking its head through the clouds, Gulliver sprawled across Lilliput.
I climb into your eyes, looking. The pupils are black painted stage flats. They can be pulled down like window shades. I switch on a light in your iris. Your brain ticks like a bomb.
In your offhand, mocking way you've invited me into your chest. Inside: the blur that poses as your heart. I'm supposed to go in with a torch or maybe hot water bottles & defrost it by hand as one defrosts an old refrigerator. It will shudder & sigh (the icebox to the insomniac).
Oh there's nothing like love between us. You're the mountain, I am climbing you. If I fall, you won't be all to blame, but you'll wait years maybe for the next doomed expedition.
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