Monday, 30 November 2009

'The Ox on the Bell-Tower' by Gerrit Komrij


They lie atop each other, scab on rash.
Flakes are heard crackling. Dandruff makes them gag.
Their skulls both glitter with tiara-flash
She fondly strokes his swollen gizzard-bag.

His pinky’s gone - a bloody abcess snares.
She squirms. Slime from her mouth forms a balloon
That bursts. His crop grows bluer. Now he dares.
He rolls her on her back. He calls the tune.

His worn-out limbs begin to wave and thrash.
Much grinding now ensues. A pus-filled smell
Of slobber seems to well up from a gash.
She pukes. God’s miracle in a nutshell.

This is a very well-known poem from the cycle.
For a parallel text of the entire cycle go to here

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