He knew it was just a matter of a speck of mold in your yogurt.
One drop of poison in the well.
That fear in the pit of your stomach that you will play a single wrong note in the middle of a sonata.
He didn't mind perfectionism. Or practicing too much.
He minded knowing.
That tiny voice.
That speck of unlawful crumb when your kitchen was supposed to be spotless for the sacred holy days.
That one thought, planting itself like a seed. Sprouting in your mind and down into your genitals, until it consumes your insides with its insidiousness.
One thing spoils it all, and so he must be on guard.
Against everything.
One drop of poison in the well.
That fear in the pit of your stomach that you will play a single wrong note in the middle of a sonata.
He didn't mind perfectionism. Or practicing too much.
He minded knowing.
That tiny voice.
That speck of unlawful crumb when your kitchen was supposed to be spotless for the sacred holy days.
That one thought, planting itself like a seed. Sprouting in your mind and down into your genitals, until it consumes your insides with its insidiousness.
One thing spoils it all, and so he must be on guard.
Against everything.
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