After Fady Joudah’s Mimesis


The day Mimesis touched me
I was moved. But days passed

And my wall was losing its
Whiteness, it became cold,

Then scolded me to clear webs
Weaved to sieve out its sight.

I wanted to impress my wall –
Destroy the tool of the weaver

To end tomorrow’s web, but the
Web is the weaver and the weaver

Is the tool. Lo, the palms of my
Broom is blind; Mimesis flooded

My skull with mirror, showing me
A painting of the Slave Murderer;

I smashed the mirror into dust,
With afterthought to avoid poems.








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