Friday, December 11, 2009

Rough Trade at Cannes


Rough Trade at Cannes
—a writerly translation of
Jean Genet’s Un Chant d’Amour

“…and you come to me
stripped of all your clothes,
rolled in sheets, standing
against a wall”
—Jean Genet, Love Song

Rough trade hustler whistling tunes with looks that could kill
Zanzibar zipper unzipped one last time for me
The curved shape of your brutish Botticelli balls
Dark Africa sliding down from your wide shoulders

Around your house I prowl like a famished werewolf
Through Venetian blinds your nude Venus torso
A young convict’s long stomach, bulging bellybutton
Playing with yourself, knowing I’m watching you smirk

Capsizing you drop your heavy anchor of love
Handsome street urchin sticking your tongue out at me
Chicken of the evening, lovely yolk of Cannes
Your pubes a false hairdo, your Snozzola your pride

To lie down next to you as waves uncurl the sea
Cream-colored waist, barefoot evening big fat lips
Wounded France sleeps while I kiss your fingers and toes
When you open your eyes you’re a male Medusa

So many lewd hands on the edge of sacrilege
My five fingers are thieves with nails of carmine
You reject my docile wrist, my lips moving up
And down your smooth staircase to your big neck

You gouge out my caressing Cyclopes eyeball
My journeying powder-puff Ulysses gangbang
Punishing my ogling voyeuristic Sluthood
Insulting me with a honeymoon of vile squirts

What happened to my forefinger lost in the night?
There it is up your tight purplish squirming asshole
Down where Africa lurks around your pink rectum
Strangling my rude finger stuck up there inside you

You mix arrogance with the finesse of a kunt
Is it possible to uncouthly undo you?
Your sleepy eyes curtained by red velvet curtains
Relieving you of your heavy Milky Way load?


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