Moving Portrait (substrev.)
Charaf Sedreddine
Moving Portrait.
I
today I called my minister
who has been ill for three weeks.
I had told her I was going away
for the holidays but my plans
fell through.
because Reverend Maggie did not know I was home
she did not invite me to christmas dinner.
So I'll meet her for coffee--
perhaps to discuss our differences
on tolerating Godess worship--
when she's feeling better.
these last few months I have missed church
i do not expect revelation so
my chiefest regret is the lost opportunity
to strengthen friendships.
II
today my therapist and I talked about faith
& Freud (he was a genius)
though its clear to me religious faith is my sustenance--
and it was his anathema--
I cannot neglect his insights.
my therapist told me that my desire for a relationship
was not pathological but healthy,
although she said I need to first develop
more autonomy.
IV
today I wonder if I have lost my virginity
(is there a standard definition for penetration?)
I mourn what I might have put out
To gain the confidence of confused, cruel
and handsome men.
I may be too generous in my description,
they seemed to know what they wanted.
I hope I did not give it to them
on those several occassions after which
I, feeling awkward, rinsed
a more bitter flavor into my mouth
with baking soda and peroxide.
Lacking love, what I did was sin.
Yet I am not too regretful to have learned
my looks are at least good and
for whatever its worth--
I have a decent well-shaped penus.
V
today I contemplate how
Zoloft that wonder drug keeps my sex drive low
& Depakote relieves the intensity of my sadness
also I have repented many times.
VI.
today I remember my friend Jennifer
(whom I could not drive away,
though I was relentless)
and our walks on Newberry Street in Boston;
I listened to her sing stories about
Helen, Sonya and her sister
and she heard my complaints,
(telling me she admired the iron strength of my abstract mind)
as we rested from people watching,
my voice safe among
the classic architechture and the ivy foliage,
before we walked back to Cambridge,
to the stone Institute, where we listened to the famous
and did our terrible homework.
Callaghan
very effective, disturbing, dark. well done
Charaf Sedreddine <ez07...@boris.ucdavis.edu> wrote in article
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