On the Conflict that Naturally Arises Between Two Women Who have the Same Lover – Sara Kazzi
July 25, 2010 § Leave a comment
She walks forth with bleeding, black mascara,
And in the background blares the Habanera,
Bootlegged by a pale Norwegian hacker.
The arias crackle, blip, hiss and fuzz
With the timbre of wood and iron hammers.
(The soundtrack provided for this encounter).
But the story takes place in hellish July,
Where blood bubbles even brighter and dries
By the glare of the orange cat-calling sun,
That whisper swelled secrets and urges men run.
Her house is lit up, like a bright brothel.
Her waist is tied up, and her body a bottle
Her blonde hair is bundled and dead-hay-dry,
Teeth like cat, with nose of a swine.
She bows after her passionate production
Where she wailed and pretended to cry.
She spreads her Kleenex in poesy-like patterns.
Flowers, I say. Her acting’s quite right.
She thinks she’s the only one who can battle.
Yet secretly, I have harpy wings and talons.
For furious fights, I fear I have a talent.
I snatch heads off, and tack them to my walls.
I scrimmage till those trumpets sound,
And souls begin to rapture from the ground.