T (no first name) Wignesan
The Ruba'Iyat Of Creteil Lake - Part Thirty-One - Poem by T (no first name) Wignesan
The Tent-Vendor’s son kept whining and wailing on the road
Such that none could even hear their own thoughts mocking aloud:
“Now what doth yon Sirrah untimely break open our contained Faith! ”
Exclaimed the High Prelate, white crown-band an overwhelming load
“Sire! ” called a yea-sayer, “He crieth like some thwarted fiend!
For – says he – his war service won him neither medal nor friend.”
“And what might that service be? ” – thundered the Imam all fired.
“At thirteen ball-bearing catapult blew a légionnaire’s mind! ”
“Allah! Forbid! Come to judgment! Free this miscreant’s soul! ”
All around the sacred ground ‘Insch’allah! ’ echoed the Faithful!
Eyes fixed on sky, the Imam cried: “Can such be true? ” Loud silence reigned.
Up stepped the Commandant, “Yes, Your Holiness! Word, deed and all! ”
“Our files attest to this forfeiture: he now works for us!
On the list of the Franquist Woman he collects détritus! ”
“Our mind boggles: why wouldst thy sworn enemy now be thine? ”
“Thwarted enemies make the best enemies of enemies! ”
“Sire! Whilst we are on the subject, I beg Thy condescension:
Habeas corpus ad subjiciendum… Ibrahim’s son…”
“STOP! Will’st thou refrain from thine use of Canon and Sceptre!
Here on consecrated soil it’s beyond our comprehension! ”
© T. Wignesan – Paris,2014
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