Chaim Gross fantasy drawing
I await you tonight
beneath a spider web chuppah
held aloft by
grinning satyrs
and reverent chassids.
Walk to me slowly.
With each step
my madness flames
as your two fawn breasts
rise rhythmically,
seeking to escape
encasing white linen.
I stand cross-legged,
yearning to feed
among the lilies.
The forest spins
and the scent
of pressed gabardine
mingles with sweat
in the estrous spring.
You gracefully circle me.
With each circle
my passion soars further.
I am a gazelle,
coiled in the cool grass.
Desire’s pulsation
loudens and deafens.
Sip the wine,
then a promise of love
according to laws
of Moses and Dionysus,
made by a God
who fashions
spider webs,
pomegranates,
sweet thighs,
and hooves.
I break the glass
into fragments
that splinter generations.
Later, in the hall
satyrs and chassids
dance together.
Furred moths enter
through open windows,
searching for
sweets and light,
obeying tropisms
in the warm spring night.