La Belle Femme
In my middle school
a young long haired girl
stood erect
banging on a wooden desk
pink palms slapped surfaces
like belts that
embrace a tired mule's back
the shrill
vibrated through her uvula
beating
ear drums sore
she moved
her evil desk aside
an explosive breeze
bounced off her chest
She jumped up
blocking the eerie silence
of eyes with red palms
that soil grey square tiles,
a bleeding rose on fierce
white sand
body
shivering, swaying,
she picked soft hairless
spiders from her permeable pores
The only way to flee
was to let eyes
see webs wrapped around
brown epi-dermis
baby spiders crack from shells
in her skin.
La Belle Femme. I wrote this poem last year when I had started taking
French, hence the title. The poem is actually about a friend from middle
school who went "crazy" one day while we were all just listening to a
class lecture. She was a simply beautiful young lady who seemed to have
no problem at all. I was genuinely scared by her attitude but also
worried about her. How could you see spiders chasing you in the
afternoon? I don't know if she ever solved that problem but I hope she
did.
Not going to lie, that creeped me out. Especially reading it at 2 in the morning..
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