Hotel Sal Dada

Persia was a migratory bird of prey circling the perimeter of a libidinal fantasy/She had been better she had been worse/Fuck/Persia the exile screams: my body transgresses the limits of the Laws of desire and rejects all attempts at having its passions and appetites controlled and diverted from this nomadic journey towards its alternate Avatars /revelling in the ecstasy of creation in search of the Kaffirs Daughter refusing to submit to a return to isolation of moral exhaustion and past memories of Tunisia and the fading surrealism of the Hotel Sal Dada/she screams into the pillow numb with the night/she screams at the shuttered windows holding back the day/ she screams lacking all restraint she screams at the sad light of dawn fraught with resignation that Lydia had not been her first love/