Poem: Comme Ci, Comme Ca- | brutmystik's Blog

Comme Ci, Comme Ca:

Come see, Come saw!

A woman’s hands

In the world are

Crackling roses

In a fire, a man’s

Are always looking

For a girl. Let me

Continue still

At the oar,

Comme Ci,

Comme Ca.

Under the swinging

Censers of erect priests

And monsignors

The Dragoons are

Visiting upon my sisters,

Stoking our

Mother’s grate

And rubbing

Their whiskers raw.

Comme Ci,

Comme Ca..

.

The forest roses cover

Mass graves

And natural caskets

In the rocks.

The folded hand

Opens and moves on.

Comme Ci,

Comme Ca.

The preceding poem was found in the pile of straw occupied by a Hugouenot galley slave known as Rouge Remy.