Tag Archives: trial

poetry, proza

Poem 1 of the The Exorcise Trials: Leila Samarrai

Exorcise Trials

Poem 1

1

ME

You dare to talk about the psyche?
You think I lack stamina for twenty-five push-ups?
What do you know of a woman?
Are you thinking of Psycho as Isolde
Or Juliet perhaps?
The ones who received Aphrodite’s curse
To be beautiful, but lonely?
She’s a vengeful bitch
But still so pretty…
Now go and look where her hands are…
I, The Goddess Of Yelling, I… scream
DIE and dumbbells drop
They call me Dame Judi Dench of the gym
I cut off The Venus’ limbs with my voice
Inside I’m just a few pieces of broken statue
I want to be like Aphrodite of Milo
To be sold to the French at a good price
If only some farmer from Melos had unearthed me
Like her, I’d be in the Louvre, beautiful and exposed
Instead I sweat and toil in a man-made gymnasium
Counting to ten over and over

Aphrodite de Milo:

Dear Sister

I have a part of the left hand and an apple
I am Eva, now, immovable
with lust in this boring paradise

That is my trial.

Advertisement
Standard
prose

The trial begins. WITCHES!, Leila Samarrai

tumblr_mv4sigMEbt1qzix81o1_1280 (1)

(c) Bruce Castle Museum (Haringey Culture, Libraries and Learning); Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

image found here

I stand naked
Wrapped in flame and smoke.
My long hair–
Oh, my long, flax fiber hair…
I forgot my hat and broomstick
I left my shoes in the chimney.

The trial begins.

WITCHES:
The first witch wears labeled clothes
Her name is Margaret.
She claims she has never been to Oz.
But you can see the magic swimming eerily in her eyes.
“Sheriff Corwin, the black Tutuba, actually Succuba
the poet is from Barbados
The magic is swinging eerily in her eyes!

JUDGE: “Whatever it is…the woman it is!”

Abigail, stop twitching in your sleep!
Again, she is having nightmares, Judge!
Another wears pointed shoes, she is Edwardian.
Abigail’s mother,
She’s The Queen of spades with a high hat

THE VILLAGE:
“You do not have a husband! Who delivereth you? The devil! ”

“I am,
washerwoman
The executioner and the victim“

THE VILLAGE:
“She does not deserve to live!”

The third was my mistress.
Stingy with words.
Goddamn my black blood
In the ludus!
Hold it!
Startled by a witch!
Back into the darkness!
“Go away, you’re dead!
She’s dead! ”

So I died.
As befits,
Tomorrow I’m going to die
Tomorrow is going to die
Love will die
Between empty hands
(The absence between hands)
Eyes are for blindness .. a daily basis

I will be rooted deep like an oak
I will be that gentle, sweet sonnet
I no longer dream of poppies in wheat
Yes, I, A Witch in Salem’s village,
I listen to someone else’s breath inside me.
I burn in the fire and
I’m shivering.

The trial continues uninterrupted.
My ashes descend.

Standard