The Ruba'Iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Two

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Two All night her troubled sleep buffeted the makeshift ramparts The flip-flop flop flop flop of her tears undermining hearts The plaintive cry of the lone crane seeking the flock heading south When it paused on her pubic lushes’ warm geothermal parts Some thought she’d un-crossed her legs during the chill of the night Though the islets and reed pockets still held their primal sight Others heard her moan and groan in the dark of their tight sleep While strapped sailing boats shook their mast-heads testing their frail might Full many clusters of menacing clouds came hurrying by Hoping to caress ripe bosom and swell lap on the sly Some girl gazed past misty curtains and saw Ol’ Khayyam rise On hillock shoulder where he pitched his tent to the dim sky No lover so loyal as that lonesome lass from Lahore Everyday as she gently treads to her job on the Mall floor Her dark diamond eyes carved into milk-white blushing cheeks Her tulip lips part for the tent-maker’s son of Nishapur And all the glory of an opening night at La Scala Break through to greet Bonjour to our Lady Traviata She blinks her stricken eyes to turn fountains to water-falls Then rippling tummy and lolling breasts belt: Viva Aria! © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013