Thursday, December 31, 2009

sing about this

for all of the women we cannot or do not defend

Perfection transforms, its single minded commitment
to an oppressive obsession,
a robotic answer
to a rmuezzin's call

prompts the quest, elusive
as a light on a pitch black night when
barn owls snare
hapless mice and rest comes fitfully,

the imagined thrashing, its impossible
escape,
machine like claws, dreams
that grab in the dark

like invisible pincers,
like perfection

unreconciled with its adversaries,
daylight
love
sharing
democracy,

justice when the obsession
drives men mad,
turns them into grasping rakes
that clasp

like thoughtless talons.


(c)B. Koplen          December 24, 2009

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