Please
Julianne Ortale

Give me your hand.
No, I want your whole hand. I want your fist.
Yes, here.
I bought some lubricant. I’ve been thinking about it.
There on the nightstand. Put some on your fingers. Rub it on your fist. On your wrist. That’s right.
Yes.
I’m serious.
Put the lubricant on your hand. I bought a book. I know how to do this.
Here. I’m going to spread myself for you.
Look. You can’t hurt me. Babies are born through a hole this tight.
I know we don’t have children. This is not about having children. I want your fist.
Why? Because I want it. I want to know what its like to feel full.
Because it’s big. I want to know how big it is. I want you to know how big it is. I want you to work your hand in there and fill it.
Yes, I want it to hurt. I want to feel it right to the bone.
Go on, slick your hand.
No, love. It’s not. It’s not enough.

© Julianne Ortale