Midsummer desert dream
The only man who ever said to me “You’re beautiful”
saw me as a slut with unexplored potential.
I went with him of course; even ugly women
yearn to be told they are beautiful,
even as they pretend to struggle for truth, justice & other Gods.
He saw a genuine slut in me, good for instruction
he asked me with much tact and grace: May I hurt you?
I said Yes
You’re so beautiful with all of these bruises!
May I cut a finger from your right hand?
I told myself: a finger is not a big deal, I will quickly learn to manage with only four
I agreed, and he exclaimed: you’re unbelievably beautiful with this generosity of yours
and he cut my finger
I thanked him with a gnash
May I chop your hips? Of course
The pain, he said, made me more and more beautiful and attractive
May I take out one of your eyes?
I hesitated a bit, I was not concerned about my eyesight, but I feared that the mutilation would make me ugly
but what are two superb eyes, two perfect hands, the most sensual carnation, the finest skin good for
in a world wherein nobody sees you and tells you: you’re beautiful?
He saw me
I could have listened to him breathing even with a single ear
I could have caressed his tensed temples with only one hand
I could have sniffed his smell of animal in heat with a single nostril
He was determined to take his trophy out of me
I consented to everything
I let him haggle my tights, my womb, my arms
while doing these he never ceased telling me how beautiful I was
The blood fits you so well, my slut!
May I cut your heart in two pieces?
He asked me this with the smoothest and warmest voice like a true gentleman
I said yes
Without any shade of regret
He went away
And I remained with only one half of my heart
With a life split in two pieces
But this is not the worst
What I hoped for was that he would have killed me
That’s the truth
I don’t care about the wounds
They will heal
The worst thing is that I should return to a place
Filled up with wonderful, well behaved men,
Who think only in the highest respect about me
Men that would never hurt me, not even with a gun pointed at their heads
Men descended from contemporary fairy tales
That never told me and will never tell me
You are beautiful