pantoum's Diaryland
Diary
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PIERCED BY THORNS
324.
BITTERNESS by Olga Broumas She who loves roses must be patient and not cry out when she is pierced by thorns. �Sappho In parody of a grade-B film, our private, self-conscious soapie, as we fall into the common, suspended disbelief of love, you ask will I still be here tomorrow, next week, tonight you ask me am I really here. My passion delights and surprises you, comfortable as you�ve been without it. Lulled, comfortable as a float myself in your real and rounded arms, I can only smile back, indulgently at such questions. In the second reel� a season of weeks, two flights across the glamorous Atlantic, one orgy and the predictable divorce scenes later�I�m fading out in the final close-up alone. As one heroine in this two-bit production to the other, how long did you, did we both know the script meant you to wake up doubting in those first nights, not me, my daytime serial solvency, but yours.
1:50 a.m. - 2006-4-15
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