Shopping Cart
    items

      January 4, 2009How to Write an Erotic LetterAnthony Farrington

      You must empty yourself first. Erase
      everything you’ve written. If you’re naked,
      revise all your clothes back on. Anyway,
      they’re all you have. What matters
      is the taking them off. Begin with a title
      “Concerning insatiable carnal urges.”
      Attach a handwritten note that says,
      Keep your hair down and If you come here,
      I’ll tell you something awful about someone perfect. Scathing
      and lovely to hear. Remember,
      each time, each letter is an entire love affair, say
      ‘A’ is for almost. ‘B’
      is the emptiness that follows. The letter ‘O’
      is what the body believes.
      If she writes in a letter,
      Sometimes our bodies are too much for us,
      quote her. How she turns you on
      turns her on. You can
      quote me on that.
      I am remembering the sweep of your hair, the light
      on your breasts, your beautiful eyes expanding;
      I am remembering the slickness inside you—
      how wet, how deliciously warm. I think
      of your uncontrollable breath; I think
      of your nipples kissing my chest; I think
      of your mouth on my neck and the sweet taste
      of your tongue in my mouth.
      Set aside nothing for later. Call this,
      I was kissing and sucking and wanting so badly
      to fuck you silly, silly. And erase it. But enjoy it first.
      Feel free to write a pretend letter to her father.
      Quote from it: “Dear her father, Sir, we are sorry to inform you, sir,
      of the mysterious demise of your daughter. It seems she was somehow—
      sorry to say this indelicately—fucked to death…obviously
      a scandalous affair. Ropes and long-necked bottles and,
      oh, we mustn’t go on. A man was dead too, sir—exhaustion it seems
      or dementia. With sincere regrets,
      I am yours.”
      If she uses the word fuck in her letters
      you use the word fuck
      but at the end of the letter only. This
      is not prudery, it is teasing
      and she will appreciate it.
      I want my face in your hair,
      your perfume in my breath,
      my finger tips softly
      touching the sides of your ribs, your waist,
      your thighs, your breast, your face—what is important here,
      in this letter, your hand must touch her, in this letter,
      so she wants, over and over, what is not there.
      If you’re foolish enough to write Oh God prematurely,
      you deserve what you don’t get. As a cautionary measure,
      delete all references to god: Jesus it feels so good and Holy shit.
      Consider keeping: God, you are so slick; so goddamn delicious.
      But you’ve already used slick once. Now three times. There is nothing wrong
      with I want to hear your voice coming and coming
      but admit, it’s a one-shot phrase.
      Damp cotton will open caves in your mind.
      Promise her: I need you
      electric in my mouth. Write: Concerning the art of seduction
      and leave it at that. Tease her: Truth or dare? End
      before you’ve said everything. Realize
      everything you are, in this letter, precedes you—
      which is the loneliness of writing. What you want
      is never now. That’s the essence of desire. What she reads is always past;
      that’s despair. Think about how—
      if she could—she would swallow the world
      (pillow and all) take it all inside—
      all of you—so it could come shattering out
      again. But don’t fool yourself,
      this letter needs to be filled with sorrow. Write:
      Sometimes I wish I could be in your body
      so I could feel what you feel. Sometimes,
      I wish you could be in my body—your own name amazingly
      on the tip of your new tongue, the smell of you
      (I mean me) in your fresh mind,
      seeing your old body arch away from your new body,
      hearing seeing feeling what was once you
      hold her breath; hearing her becoming, coming
      apart all around you. And then your own foreign release
      beyond your whole body. The cracking—
      it feels so open—this desire, almost to weep. Then
      weep. In the space of a letter you once were.

      Anthony Farrington

      “I’ve a friend who says that every poem is ars poetica. This poem certainly felt like it—the conflation of writing and pleasure. I enjoyed stealing and rewriting lines from old letters, re-reading a not-so-distant past. By its very nature, a love letter is always written out of longing; it is a solitary act; it entrusts us with a kind of silence and loneliness. In this way, I think the love letter is the saddest of all letters.”