Golden Scalp Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

slowly scrupulously
you are colouring your nails
with colour of my blood
you are checking whether light blue
skilfully you are taking the cuticle down
without batting an eyelid
and of twitching of the eyelid
you are reaching for the trophy
'golden scalp' in the price


you are upholstering sides
with the whip of words
in order to leave permanent tracks
with the soothing smile
you are stuffing the gulle
with pap made too sweet
getting it mixed up with your own
you forget
I am on the necessary diet

taste you in the humble silence
then you will always find the meaning
of the saying
'the victim loves her executioner'...