Nina Zivancevic
The Elizabethans … called it dying
I know how lovers come to kill one another — if
Passion is there; once I almost did it, then
Althusser killed his wife out of euthanasia, then
Burroughs killed his wife out of negligence, then
This pop singer of Noir Desir who kept a low profile
At his trial, poor guy, if you looked at his face you could see
That he already outlived his punishment and his Hell;
Don't worry my love, I will never hurt you, I'd never even
Dream of it — it's like, the hour of love
Is already gone, but we are reinventing it, with its goady
Desire, its gothic equipment, with a simple prerequisite 'eager-to-be-loved'.
When all the masks and costumes fall off We remain silent and perfect.
|
