One lover’s lips spill into another’s;
Our two combined thighs bandy up and down;
One flesh confronts and conforms to the next—
Until we’re shouting, organ by organ.
When I breach your castle’s molten marble,
I please you by seizing every treasure;
A large condo with high ceilings and a wall of windows. Spacious, elegant, minimalist. A sparkling late-night skyline. Upstage is a King-sized bed with the mattress leaning halfway off, touching the hardwood floor. A large piece of white fabric is tangled between the bare mattress and the bare box spring. Downstage right is a plush, microsuede sofa and ottoman. Near it, a liquor cabinet and a variety of glasses, flutes, tumblers.
"All of Toronto seemed to have shown up for that awful production!" Phil complained.
"It wasn't so dreadful, was it?" someone asked.
Sybill's eyes lit up, and she almost rose out of her seat to add:
"Yes, and didn't Millie say she saw Christopher Plummer in the lobby?" Everyone turned to her end of the table. This was the first thing she had said since the three couples had arrived from a nearby theatre.
- Paul Gauguin.
Volunteers for Issue 10
For copy-editing this issue of MTLS thanks:
- Lequanne Collins-Bacchus
- Amanda Tripp
- Claudia Del Balso
MTLS is grateful to Jetioluwa Olafimihan (Cotta Red Creative Studio) for her hard work on web development and management.
To the memory of Stephen Potts
© 2011 Maple Tree Literary Supplement on behalf of individual artists, writers & contributors.All Rights Reserved.