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The Ruba'iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Twelve

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Twelve As one solstice surrenders its last gasp of warmth to winter The Lady of the Lake’s icy grip tightened over her Still yon Dreamer of the Deep blew smoky wisps over coiffure While rodents and rabbits scurried through warrens to stock their lair All night the scowling harpy gusts scoured her furry skin Bourrasque après bourrasque pour bourrasser la Dame sans fin Slates of icy hail jabs slammed into her tortured sickened flesh Whiplash after whiplash thundered into her tender skin For what crime Gorgon-headed harpies come to make her pay For what sin or debt of karma centuries cannot repay Window shutters shook and shuddered by wildly whining winds Is there no remorse fit for her vengeance from this mournful day Whoever cuts this life short must to the sexton explain If his judgement at the time was less than willingly plain A man once jumped into the water arguing out rescuers Or was it the Lady of the Lake with hungry hands of rain Now weeping willow lemon yellow leaves litter her face And the bare frilly lindens’ have turned the sod to fudgy lace Along her belly brittle branches collect the year’s regrets As Ol’ Khayyam’s astir in his tent with the wine of disgrace! © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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