Wednesday, August 13, 2003


Somehow ever since I heard about the houri
Seventeen? Is it seventeen white virgins?
Somehow I think it is more.
Never mind.
Those many translucent or is it transparent figures.
I imagine them without hands.
Who needs hands in paradise?
Or rather with fused pointed Barbie fingers
Fragile as Christmas tree ornaments
Cracking at the slightest touch.

Are they also filled with love, these houri?
Or empty as gongs?
Do they see you, through you, and adore you as you truly are?
Or are they only smiling automatons.
I'll never know.
No houri for me.
For a variety of reasons.

Caveat1: Please recall that my poetry is supposed to be humorous.
Caveat 2: This is not meant to be blasphemous, sacreligious, etc...People make jokes about angels. I read about the houri and was quite taken with the description but then realized the houri are out of my reach. So I make fun of my own yearning for perfect celestial beings that I can never see...OK, got it?


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