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© Z. Azzabi
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Spinsters in the shade
Pulling the strings of each others’ speech
Spinning shadow to shadow
Ash to ash
and hollow good grief
While men, passing by, watch them in sorrow
Release from under their moustaches
A sad smile
Words hanged from the neck
with a bloodstained thread
Kick there bucket
Sway.. dangling silently
Completely dead
Put your sins into my bag, I can carry more
All of them, those sins we grew together
And watched, impatiently, to be mature
In a hostile world, full of nasty virtues
