Another Bond

Sorted documents sealed with wax closed tossed into the dusty drawers of the archive. And then erased with the press of a button from the active part of the brain — without regret. — Crumpled yellow papers with their faded illegible letters fastened with a sharp round-headed pin — without suffering pain. — It is not this! It is never this! the moments of our human meeting the memories of our meeting beside each other blazing up passionately from each other’s breath. Not archived our sweet words in each other’s ear: the rhythm of fresh blood circulating, beneath the skin, in the ear of the living fetus. We have mingled with the core of each other’s being without being sorted without being erased and without knowing...