“Entering Susan’s Heart”

The trailer’s steel door slams shut like the cage I spent half my life behind.  I plop the freshly butchered cow heart on the table, drop my drawers and stick the cold hard thing into its still warm center, but it is not what the magazine promised.

If you didn’t have your head screwed on you’d forget it by the jungle gym, my Momma would always say and then I remember to attach the alligator clips and copper wire to the 12-volt batteries and the cow heart begins to beat.

I stick the cold hard thing into the gaping hole that pulses with electric life, and I am with her again: Susan, oh sweet Susan, 14 years old all legs and smile pulls me onto the couch and she says, “Clyde, I’m going to make you a man today,” and teaches me how to kiss.  Susan pecks like a hen at first and pokes her hot wet slug into my mouth and my hot wet slug and her hot wet slug wrestle each other and it is nice.

“Give me your hand”, she says and places it on her breast and it is round and soft like an ant hill, and I am not sure why she, the prettiest girl in school and my new Daddy’s daughter picked me to be the recipient of such a sweet gift, but for once I am wanted for something other than lifting weight or tending the animals.

Susan reaches for my jean’s button and unfastens it with one well-practiced hand. And then she pulls down my drawers and puts my cold hard thing into her hot mouth and I am the Alpha and the Omega and want to put my cold hard thing as far as I can into her electric wetness.

“Easy Tiger, you’re choking me,” and I am easy, and I run my fingers into the curly tangles of her red hair spread out like the dawn or a pair of fiery demon wings before me.

The storm door slams and my new daddy walks in the room and screams, “What the Hell!”  I panic and push Susan away from me, but her hair gets tangled in my hands and her face slams against the edge of the table, and she comes up for air and her mouth blossoms into a liquid red rose with tiny white petals spilling from its center.

“He’s crazy, Daddy! He punched me and forced me!”

And it doesn’t matter anymore, not the lies she told or the whippin’ he gave me or the time I spent locked up.  I strip the wire from the 12-volt and plug the copper end into the wall outlet.  Susan’s mouth beats wildly, and I enter her heart one more time.


Eric Lee

About Eric Lee

Eric Lee holds a Ph.D. from Florida State University and is the winner of the 2010 Page Davidson Clayton Award for Emerging Poets awarded by the editors of Michigan Quarterly Review. His work has recently appeared in: Rattle, Georgetown Review, Chicago Quarterly Review, Slipstream, Dos Passos Review, New York Quarterly and many others.

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