Like showing nudity to a blind
man, it is not a crime and does no harm.
The initial counter is that of a
woman who is half a woman but understands the qualities that all women hold in
their mental and physical state of mind.
Yet showing beauty to a fully able
man would only be seen as giving him a taste of the sublime
And giving beauty a lack of charm
Because of the fact that it’s
duty is to only show an ankle or flick a wrist in his direction,
Without him having the full
inspection of where the woman bares a child.
In the garden where the garden snake
slithers and hovers for a while, she is lost and compliant.
For she can only give what she
cannot have and in the midst of her broken climax
She falls apart and falls asleep
seeing no one in her bedroom
Where the lost souls hide behind
table tops
And give the fireflies half told
secrets about the world and all its history.
She listens to the bickering of
fairies in the nightlight
And runs to find them with her
eyes only to see tumbling pieces of lint
Who sprawl carefully across the
dining room floor where fancy dresses used to crawl.
Where candlelit dinners once
fumed the room
And gave romantic aromas of
yesteryear
And the powder room illuminated
the darkness with a glistening ring of white dust
And the sweet scent of Egyptian Musk
filled the air.
Women would chit-chat about their
hopes and dreams
About how the men they loved were
all ‘too sincere’ of the ‘things’ they should fear to show them.
The laughter would carry to the
ballroom and morph
Into the strings plucked on the
sorrowful violas
Where the couples twirl so softly
and tears careen down their faces and ruin make-up
‘Till the time passes and the age
of tango is rediscovered
By the man and woman who were once
so passionate for each other
In a time before they went away
abruptly on a carousel
With horses that wore elegant
feathers upon their crowns and gifted faces where they cried aloud “nay!”
Sparkling where the pretty men
touch your pink lips
A pair or two that they can
choose from
Leaving behind delicate pools of
saliva and humming hymns of moans
That only the fickle walls choose
to keep to themselves and giggle about
When the man goes away again and
laughs in her face again with another woman under his arm.
“Your eyes so dark and glamorous,
your lips so soft and plump,” He says to her fervently while
He traces manly fingers down her
sides and holds her waist
As he glides effortlessly and
courageously conquering the sea’s tides
Of water waves and rose petals
beating at the face and buttocks.
He whispers to her in a grimace
tone
That he is not responsible for
any excess baggage that he might give her
But of course she doesn’t pay
attention, nodding in agreement,
Too wrapped up that just for
tonight she’s found the love of her life.
“Mother!” a child sings.
“Mother!” it rings in her ear.
“Mother?” it questions when it
sees the silent face and the blood dripping from his oh so cherished “Mother’s”
pretty waist.
And painted on the mirror
directly in front of her face are dripping letters who cry “All the pain is gone
away.”
And again it cries “Mother!”
screaming so loudly from the dreams
Of a girl who almost met her fate
and she returns to her windowsill and sighs it all away.
Birds hug the clouds in the
distance.
Her eyes are at peace.
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