The sister’s Saturday

(to my incest)

This Saturday

Love unbuttoned her cheesecloth chemise

On the ground the buttons rattled

We rushed to bite her breasts of smalt

We panted, isn’t known if we really wanted this

Some kisses with alcohol echoes

While the fingers tumble – panic

in the whirling marsh

of your underwear’s elastic

We have closed our eyes (and looking at times)

Closed, no idea of how much I suffer

The wonder pleases me, you could cope to not despise me

We act as drunk to forget it

The buttons were poorly undone like when the lights turn on

We call to the taxis of love, what is its name today?

Kill the fatigue

This is what love is

What I am giving you for love’s sake

You retract your belly, the breath is ended

You curb the hand that pushes through the lumber of your hair

Yes, there, at your not forsaken Death Valley

There, where are rumbling the ranges of the cowboys

I would have wished to be you

To halt, to hinder the other’s hand, those fingers

As olives in a bough

Then when untangled, to divide my sweat drops

Like flute keys

From the sliver of my heart inside the lap

To rekindle my rare water

Saturday. The love’s bell struck

Struck as in “struck down”

From its belfry to the ground

So fell the teeth gnawed rope

And the bell ringer fell too

With his hands bloated

For the others’ celebrations

ERVIN HATIBI (1994)