Otell

By Elvira

Under Neath                                                                     the Aubergine

                                                                                                The tear

                                                Reveals                                                marble:

Blue veined, cold             to touch

No breathe                         Mustered                            stone-

Like.                                       Clothed                                                in Venitian silk

                                                Bearing                                 Afrique steel

Once                                     praised                                 by Pope and Pashu

Now                                      frozen                                   for eternity.

Ah,                                         removal                               of the soot!

                There                    is                                             no time for

                Bootblack

                It’s                                                                          too late

                                                To save                                 from betrayal

                                                                                                Faith

                                                                                                And honor

Off to Cyprus                     was                                        the call, after    

                                                                                                Cloistered           vows

No rite, nor dance                                                           only hated oaths;

The Marriage:                                                                    a LONG night of

                                                Splattered                           blood on distant

                                                                                                Shores

Yet the doge’s                                                                   Fair haired boy

                                                Rallys                                     to the summons

But, Victory                        becomes                             defeat

When certain F(r)iends scream:

                                                                                                A theft here

                                                                                                A lie there:

ALL                                         is                                             fair         in love and war

Darken Achille’s heel     is                                             shot

                The heart forever bruised

And                                        tangled

                                                Smothered

                                                Bloodied                              bodies

Only evidence                                                                   that  words

                                                Destroy                                                deeper than a blade

The Blackboot gone        reveals

An Araby prince no                                                         fairer/darker than

                The doge, himself                                            ok the

Comely Desdemona

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