Wednesday, December 17, 2008


Henna tattooed
Kohl rimmed
Sun burnished
It was permitted.
The goat hide slid.
Whisking in
fluent chador
impeccably cloaked
For the black place.

In fresh slaughter stench
and swelling ululations
I tasted blood intensity
hovering at the cusp
of Berberophone womanhood.

The phalanx of the gnarled Mother ones
Swirling like gnats in a dust swollen myth
Billowing in sunless effusion
as leaden-black snowflakes
Settling throughout the gut-hewn hut
of scorched dust
and yogurt billage.
Anointed by fresh vomit.

In breath-stippled syncopation
We moved to the scream strewn straw.

… three scorpions scampered …
Over frozen hemp sandals
on crucified soles and
Western obtundent eyes.
Benumbed blankness.
Feigning understanding.
While obsidian cataracts

Oh, the screaming had never abated.
For her mother
For the fervid hands that bound her
For the storm of black snowflakes
That pried her innocent labia
While the Ancient One
Flicked bone skewer
Criss-cross, Criss-cross
The sacred whet stone.
I thought it would be quick
Like some cutting room castoff bit
of documentarian vagaries.
But no.
It was not.
…such a tiny clitoris…

And with each deft puncture of
Infant Vagina
New shrieks were born.

From what can neither be forgiven
Nor forgotten.

Field researching

Agonistes mistress
Tortured unto death.

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