Poetry: Ximena Gautier Greve

Ximena Gautier Greve
The Trollop

Whore, the putrid alley's infamous
daughter

Each daybreak
greets you with

some scorn, hatred and
fatigue.

They caught your soul but none
claims you

your dream being
a woman,
as, all women.

Parody of love, rooted in misery,
shade, parasite of dark paths.

How it mistreats you, the public lust, in their trade fair!

Hidden profession of so many despised
you are Sexual Queen: the turbid echo of sunrises.
Heartless imitation of idyll,
lewd destiny.

Bowing down amid your
thighs,
crosses himself
the bourgeois.

Ogresses

envy you, cursing your
cavern,

But the religion of Good and Evil
knows
you are eternal.

They forget you were the ring of Adonis and Priapus,
that Astarte and Venus herself were sitting at your side.

In those temples, sex and love used to be one,
today when love is damned,
sex and violence
bind.

Between drugs and vices of others,
abandonment's wench.

Tender Mother of despised and illegal
creatures,

whose immoral tears and
joys,
tied the
midwife.

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