Scheherazade

Scheherazade

I wish I were, the daughter’s vizier,

sly Scheherazade,

Who wished she’d never had

her nakedness to hide

from king Shahriyar,

with one thousand

and one veils.

 

For, as the Persian story intim-

ates: ardent King once bitten,

three thousand shy, slaughters

bride, after bride, after bride,

after bride, until the kingdom,

Shahriyar’s bleak landscape,

of noble virgins runs dry.

 

Queen! Must always deceit and

intimacy pair to make

hearts in the end unite?

 

Ours, was love at first sight,

but oriental intimacy un-

veiled a two stories house

encumbered with,

at the bottom,

your Mum and Dad’s apart-

ment, your boyhood room

atop, tear our alcove apart.

 

Only bedtime stories,

veiled parables, intim-

ideation will the ancestral intim-

idation, one veil at a time,

strip off, un-

till our souls coalesce.

 

 

For Rim A.

Happy Heuristics

The Feminist Icarista: Ana Mendieta

Last Silueta

You fell into the pit of Cuban revolution, first exodus

And you were told: “it’s no good lingering over the pit

In war anything and everything goes, if you want to fit”

Peripheral excavating of thy heritage wills your uprising

 Pedro Pan girl in American exile, won’t states’ plaything

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