blonde

 
she invades the crevices of hope
molded from the time i first suckled  
my mother's breast  
 
Freud would say.
 
but somehow i need her even more.
 
sweltering walls entomb me.
my marrow gnawed dry by war dogs
who use my manhood as a chew toy.
 
im a stray in my own village.
 
my wife
mother
sisters
merely bitches meant for breeding
by boys with guns.
 
the puppies have steal teeth.
 
so i lie on my cot  
stained with the residue of the promises
of beauty by the Norwegian with her golden locks.
 
Rapunzel wore a wig  
as most whores do.
 
she made he hard with her whispers
and her smile  
that stroked my flaccid dignity.
 
but now the ticks and leeches  
get to feast first  
on what should have been my first son.
 
* * *  
 
Writer's note: Based on the attached ... http://www.economist.com/news/books-and-arts/21702158-hope-horror?zid=309&ah=80dcf288b8561b012f603b9fd9577f0e  

Accepted for publication 08 03 2017 by mgv2 La petite mort (France)