By Andrew Templeton. Directed by David Bloom. A MachineFair production presented by the Firehall Arts Centre. At the Firehall Arts Centre on Friday, March 13. Continues until March 21

Andrew Templeton’s new play This Mortal Flesh is a witty exploration of what it means to have a body, but this script about human meatiness could use more heart.

I can find no way to talk about this show without giving away its central conceit so, if you want to be surprised, read no further.

Templeton imagines a love between a mortal and a goddess. At first, Harry thinks Holly is a regular human woman, who simply doesn’t want to be touched because she has issues about physical intimacy. But, when she comes out as a goddess, Holly also reveals that, if mortals touch her, they’ll explode. This is a great metaphor for horniness and, in the opening scenes, actors Billy Marchenski and Tanya Marquardt play the comedy of frustrated lust for all it’s worth. Marchenski virtually humps the table. In a sexy device, Templeton has the characters breathe the word Hi into one another’s mouths rather than kissing.

From there, the show proceeds to meditate on mortality. Some of this is basely playful. Delighted by the idea of taking human form, Holly is enthralled by anal sphincters in general and farts in particular. More serious and satisfying themes also emerge, including the relationship between human fragility and the capacity to love. There are some fresh poetic images: although he didn’t know it at the time, Holly saved Harry’s life when he was a boy, and he remembers smelling lilacs.

Even though the script assumes that these characters love one another, however, we don’t see enough of that emotion in their interactions. Holly’s declarations of devotion often come after an expression of emotional callousness and, for the majority of the play, Harry’s interest in her seems primarily sexual.

The play also trips on its own devices. Holly is trying to learn how to conduct a human relationship by reading women’s magazines, and she constantly quotes Elle, Vogue, and Marie Claire. It’s funny at first, but not for as long as she does it.

The text’s arguments also tend to be circular.

As Harry, Marchenski shows comic chops I never knew he had. It’s an excellent, honest, witty performance. Marquardt is less thoroughly credible but her character is a kind of clown, which makes her stylistic task harder. I wish there was more vulnerability in this performance, and that the play led with its heart rather than its head.