CRUSADER

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This aristocrat's a creature of ascendancy

Red-jewelled, attracted by oblivion,

She struggles on

Dreams by day

Lies by night.

 

Her husdand's suicide:

Such a lot of commotion

For a man of less than monkish virtue.

 

She's the mistress of horology

Perfectly un-Islamic,

A troubadour,

Of old.

 

And the war has now begun

And will end in the holy city

Of Jerusalem

And many will burn their eyes

Before she is done, or dies.

 

1997

🌷 (1)

◄ Elegy

SUTTEE ►

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