Ecstatic Taboo


Like the blink of a lash,
the escape from a cage
of the bird never free,
it was gone, no rehash
could take back, blank the page,
or restore 'used to be'.

Innocent, ecstatic
utterance of delight,
conclusionary name,
at once problematic,
a knock down drag out fight,
one faux pas snuffed the flame

and my feet hit the street
in the dark. I admit
surprise at violence
from sweethearts thought discreet,
the last place that she bit
has not stopped hurting since,

reminding the big deal
in a name. Not a curse
that demeans or derides,
nor a slur that would steal
her respect, it was worse.
A thing which coincides

with taboos from the past,
once broken, unforgiven.
The name at which she seethed,
my former lover's last,
fired a vengeance-driven
wrath not to be believed.

Send flowers to commend
your charming words of praise,
best mute, in ecstasy,
but should she rapture send
and your libido craze,
detente diplomacy.


--Don Juan de Feu

 

 

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