VidaKashizadeh

Women’s Pond in Cancer

So many women so many body shapes
One is plugging her eyebrows
using a CD as a looking glass
her face is emerging from 1930s
the style of her hair and the pants show
that she knows
Were some faces made only for a certain fashion?
even the silvery CD
updates her genuine time landing

Breasts hanging on time
Icy sounds of joy evaporating from the cold pond
Black berries’ white withering flowers
And the shade of trees
are background to this mass of flesh
flashing

The white butterfly
is a flying blackberry blossom
and yellow persistent cow lilies
stretching upwards a few petals
before drowning in the pond

And no
there are no striking fabrics
to stroke my eyes

I enjoyed the water
but I’m not so sure
about the sun’s stitchery shine
knowing that one third of London’s water
is leaking permanently
can spoil the fun

Now I see a dark green satin skirt
covered with black lace
matching the dark shady sides of the trees behind
helmets and bikinis
some are in monokinis
one is nude
tattoos of stars, Celtic ornaments
bats and birds
flowers and is that the sun or an anchor
on a lower back
meant to entertain the eyes?

Seven exotic little ducklings
-Brazilian mergansers?-
nine with their parents
marching unexpectedly on the grass
amongst the sunbathing femmes
in a row towards the pond
unhurried by all those fixed on them eyes.

This is the part of Hampstead Heath
where clitoris reigns
and such crowd do make the nature
keep a low profile
waiting for the peace of the night.

Crabs here are none
But undiscovered cancers do creep on some
statistics say there will be one in nine
my head turns to those lying on my right side
but better stick to the lightness of the present
and so all is fine.

Vida Kashizadeh
Mon 3rd July 2006