deepundergroundpoetry.com

mala femmena

the men who gather at the taverna say she ain�t that pretty,
not like the pretentious models who stroll the boulevards of
Rome. they lean & smoke, in their t-shirts soiled with the dirt &
grease of truculent labor. they come for the beer, which is cold, &
to hear the madrigals of Caruso, as he sings out the heartbreak
that would surely come from loving her: mala femmena.

she ain�t that pretty they say, these hard men who have loved
women, magnificently, but never a woman like her. perhaps she
will pass, her sensuality swaying, glancing her derisive glance,
to stir awake their drowsing libidos.

on this abandoned Sunday, I see her hastening down the empty
streets; she may be coming from an affair, aristocratic & sordid
as her Aphrodite beauty. she cuts through a mute alley & I follow.

she spies me & runs, paces ahead of my erected lunacy. I catch
up & leap upon her; she screams & turns like a possessed dervish,
battering my skull, but I feel nothing, only my mad desire for the
harlot I am so unworthy of.

after several minutes, her savage struggle ends. her shoes have run
away, her torn dress is thin & frail around her waist. I stare at the
naked awful passion within this woman�s hips.

�get it done then,� she snarls, so ferociously Italian,
�so I can spit on you!�

and I want to, I want to fornicate upon this glorious wicked girl,
this mala femmena. but to enter her would be an act of no justice
for a hideous gypsy as I. �still, to be so close to her treasure & not
partake in some way ��

so I bend & kiss her there, & having kissed, I must taste of her
nectaring flesh, which is all that is woman. what befalls my tongue
is not of this world, but the perverse bliss of the most far away star.

she makes noises as I plunge into her sweet bitterness: an ecstatic
animal, sleek wailing cat dying in a jungle. she grips my head &
releases her malicious schizzare upon my face�

�she lies in her lonely reverie, looking not at me, but at the sky,
which is blue & majestic, & does not care�

(Model: Monica Bellucci)

Written by JohnFeddeler

Published 31st Jul 2016

All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.

likes 9 reading list entries 1

comments 6 reads 1449

Commenting Preference:

The author encourages honest critique.

Re. mala femmena

Kasai

31st Jul 2016 10:39pm

she grips my head &
releases her malicious schizzare upon my face�
Such passion,John
I can see the streets of Italy as I read....

Read poems by Kasai

Re. mala femmena

ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)

1st Aug 2016 7:50am

To run there.

Read poems by ImperfectedStone

Re. mala femmena

Ahavati

1st Aug 2016 3:31pm

Enjoying something we don't want to enjoy is agony in itself.

but at the sky,
which is blue & majestic, & does not care�

Solid ending with no where left to go.