Black Madonna
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You thought me spineless,
so in a fit of anger you tore mine out,
Bloodless, I rose sword swallower,
strengthened by my tattered paper edges.
The abyss of your barren soul wrapped me in
gauze, shrouded me on parallel partitions;
nailed to the crossbars of your lust;
only mother me did you revere.
All hail the hidden seal*-- nailed to the missing cross,
white cloaked, virginal, tresses unbound-- lay me not
across the landscape of your desire-- grovel at my shrine.
The Broken Column by Frida Kahlo’s
*the word seal has been used to comply
with Soup Guidelines
First Published in Dual Coast Magazine Issue 1 2014
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014
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