At
the Synagogue
Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for
him
– Psalms 37:7
A Festival of Lights, of Dedication.
A night of celebration. A picture show in
Perth.
In ruffled outskirts
Balaclava'd guards—ex-
IDF—interrogate the ones who wait with patience
—my Holy Joes,
their daughter, nappy rifled. I
burnish
each menorah, then glare nairs in every sexton.
- Stuart Barnes 2012
The Führer†
strait-razored my lustrous black hair to cushion submarines'
machinery, to weave clothing, felt and blankets for his
stormtroopers
(from my fine white scalp Eva Braun handsewed a lampshade).
uprooted every molar, gold melted into Switzerland's
ingots. cleaved my right breast (had I had the brawn of an
Amazon his heart would have been dissected); my left arm, tattooed
bluely, plies the spines of breathless Shepherds.
lastly mined my vagina for pearls, soaped his cock,
his balls and
his arsehole with my adipose tissue.
From his bedside dresser my skull, like Yorick's, mocks.
†on watching Paragraph 175
- Stuart Barnes 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment