Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Inherited Stubbornness

THE MAN IMPORTED FROM ISRAEL:
One thing my daughter is going to have to learn—
Apologies must be lent on her tongue’s behalf. I
do not want to be loved nor slighted by her. I threatened
to kill her and have no misgivings nor regretful expressions
to grant.

THE CHILD CONCEIVED THROUGH HIS WAYWARD GLANCES AT ONE OF IRAN’S MYSTERIOUS BEAUTIES:
I am determined that you shall not entrance the potency of rhyme, the fragile birth of my skill. I am armed with lyrical fury and unwavering in decree of the right
granted to my twenty-seventh year as a woman let alone your daughter. Standing hovered over your open casket, I have unapologetically doused your feared flame through chronicles of what you ineffectively forgot with wrought iron hands aiding retaliation by means of a double homicide on one; unnecessary suffocation ending the solicitation of my days spent in search.
Images of you held up at face value have bailed out every illicit irritant held
captive by the calm of this woman.
I have killed you in my fears.
I have killed supplementary labor of you in my verses.
I have washed the residue of love
lacking from my skin.
My hands are reborn, short
in the genetic rule of your fists.

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