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Poetry

Bloodbath in slaughterhouse

 


Farhad Zaltash
May 17, 2007
iranian.com

When the queen of seduction challenges
The retired womanizer,
What a scene, if not God's revenge
Certainly a fairytale bizarre.

One collects in her trophy box to
Survive in her unhappy skin and mold;
One discarded this fancy arena to
Argue his case in that other world.

Subject of a hundred secret admirers,
Chasing her picture-perfect frame;
His is only one mistress, solitude
Her name, loneliness of the ultimate.

A butterfly, her colorful
Wings make them fall and moan;
One is a lion, given up the
Kingdom to roam.

She conquers souls like
A ballerina tactician;
He escapes into rules, forgetting
Hearts he's broken, his redemption.

What a coliseum showdown,
When two giants face off;
Master and slave declared,
When the true gladiator finishes off.

Is it her final medicine drink,
Or, the healing he's been longing for;
To uncover secrets, they must bow,
She to her own truth, He to her inner-truth door.

Paradise or inferno, a myth; verdict
Already in, when fired off the gaze;
Punishment or trophy, lovers indulge
In the confusion of its intoxicating haze.

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