by Laszlo Aranyi, translated by Gabor Gyukics
“Not now!” “And most of all, not here!” — she objected languidly,
but of course, she lifted her hips for him to slip her
pants and panty off.
The arch of her trembling reversed body belongs to the night
that’
swallowing the visible; Nuit.
The bonded, touchable space cajolingly turned a sordid
woman divine.
Next day cuts Androgynes in two,
Every supposed or real touch and motion smell of dogcatchers.
We avoided each other,
Again, our camouflages began to mimic the ordinary Evil.
I’d ask one thing though,
At least from the distance of thirty years of time,
Did anyone else see you as a Goddess before?
Did anyone see your fish smelling glue leaking cunt
As the Holy Grail
Beside me?
Laszlo Aranyi (Frater Azmon) poet, anarchist, occultist from Hungary. Earlier books: (szellem)válaszok, A Napés Holderok egyensúlya. New: Kiterített rókabor. English poems published: Quail Bell Magazine, Lumin Journal, Moonchild Magazine, Scum Gentry Magazine, Pussy Magic, The Zen Space, Crêpe & Penn, Briars Lit, Acclamation Point, Truly U. Known spiritualist mediums, art and explores the relationship between magic. On twitter @azmon6.
