Take Her, Lift Her, Look at Her
by Marzia Dessi
Take her, lift her, look at her
Hidden spirits, injured and
told beneath the flames.
Take her, lift her, look at her-
Her body is an ornament-
Touch her, think of her,
now pure, free of scrutiny.
Past dishonored but still fair for the rarity.
Lamps quiver, a light houseless-
The bleak wind ends it.
A picture untaken, to rigid-
So blindly known to darkness,
burning her hands on a cold flame.
Happy Sad immorality, her evil, her sins
The dream of happy gamesome minds,
turning apart, leaning on black stoned walls.
Take her, lift her, look at her.
Read from the book.
The black one with the golden trimming.
Feet upright, some historic pages;
The ones on suffering, on grief-
Speaking to all times and all life.