The Ruba'Iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Fourteen

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Fourteen Even sea-gulls mistake this lavish lap of water for sea All day long their cries betray their delusion so eerie Circling and swooping and settling on her deranged graces Coming in with wild winds this day dismal and dreary Cannon fire: a shot? Pigeons by the dozens take wing Atlantic sea-gulls shriek and circle above her hovering A squadron of bernache cravant takes to the air trumpeting The alert blares loud: the Lady of the Lake is whimpering: “Murder!” “Vile iniquitous act!” proclaim madly hopping crows Shriek hell upon her tummy in motion: “Everybody knows!” Grebes and coots dive to bring up the truth: “Dark purple poison!” Behind tinted glasses Men of Paperasserie in throes. Enticed inveigled lured to her fallen tripped entrapment Her cervical and lumbar discs verily out of joint No many-splendoured rays of the rising and setting sun Reflect the rhododendron dews of her irises glint Only the lone Bard of Nishapur hears her anguished quails: “They see not the heinous hurt of the hills dug into dales Nor drink they pure geothermal juices of the guts of the earth: Here must I lie die till Sister Seine flows into my entrails!” © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013