The Ruba'Iyat Of Creteil Lake - Part Thirteen - Poem by T Wignesan
Oh! Woe! Woe! On pubic islet the dirty deed’s done
Bloodied needle leaves stain the Zen-rock cobbled garden
The derelict torn womb spills seminal fluids on the ground
Fallopian tubes shredded by the elements count down
Her mons veneris rough-scaled and crushed by bombarding rams
The cicatrised wooden ramparts no more serving as soil dams
Not a lamina of palmate leaf even so much as shaking hands
Where the maple tree once swayed to vulva-lapping tom-toms
This soggy desolation of mud and gangrened charred rock
Three weeping willows drooping wan lifeless at the water mock
Where even the wild fowl desert the juicy period spoils
Tell-tale signs of the Lady Lake’s pilloried grief in stock
Where the surgeon’s thrusting irons reigned now stands the shiny
Three dark as dungeons evergreens bear lurid witness knowledge
Of an unwholesome demonic deed done to the locked-in Dame
Look! That Ancient Bard of Nishapur will surely acknowledge!
Hark! The tulip-lipped Lass from Lahore walks downcast on stones!
The Maiden of the Main lifts her head to utter bye-bygones!
Pale Ol’ Khayyam still roams dreaming of the Dame of the Lake!
Yet the foul deed still resounds up to the highest heavens!
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