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Quadreplegic Love

Quadreplegic Love - Peter Malakoff

The Wounded Angel

- by Hugo Simberg

When I was 15 years old I spent the night in a field


at a party


with a young beautiful quadreplegic woman


She had been injured in a car accident

It was a night of  young wonder


full moon




the air was warm


and slid lusciously


along our bodies



Her face was beautiful




the moon wept in her body


Her body was a land of weeping



We both dreamed of beautiful bodies


Her sweet swelling bosom


under the the touch of my  hand


was only an idea to her


She was quadreplegic


alive to touch


only above her breasts


For her


they could of been another's



She felt with her mouth


sweetly touching my face


as I leaned in over her wheelchair


her gentle tongue pressing



her savoring mouth


kissing and kissing


Hours passed and we laughed


and talked and wondered


through the night



She tasted everything


with eyes closed  


so that better


her heart might bloom with images



We were up all night 


I remember the light of dawn coming slowly


and with it came


a return to memory


and comparison with others




the flower of her delight


closed with the sun



She would not give me a number where to reach her




she was too wise from her pain


or perhaps


just too vulnerable



Her friends came and wheeled her to their car


It had heavy doors that shut firmly


I watched her eyes looking out the window


I saw sadness looking out her eyes


I felt her beautiful sad body looking out her eyes



Don't forget sweet one


I felt


Love is your whole body


Don't forget


Love is the whole body


I remember her love 




through the heavy doors
looking out the window




I was scared


because I realized


her practice is no more or less


than the one I or anyone else must perform


We must yield everything up to what is


Because love is the yielding


of the whole body


to God

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