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Kathleen Myra Colby
Poems
Jul 2010
Rosanna and the Seven Moons
In a heady perfumed night…
Spanish guitars strung out a snare,
Soldiers crowed the border town
to see the Gypsy fair
Gypsy wagons, colorful and garish
circled the camp fires near the barracks.
Gypsies wandered freely their mongrel dogs did howl.
Gypsy’s drinking ***, stealing and making dog stew.
Some claimed they put in magic herbs to
boil a man’s skin raw.
Others said the opposite, it came out as a draw.
The violet dusky sky seemed to fall into the sea.
Bonfires burned and ravished the evening gaiety.
Sweat was running just waiting to see her.
She’d leave them broke and *** soaked;
but they cared not in their desire.
Just before the clock struck ten a wagon
door swung free.
A garter ed stocking leg emerged and men forgot
to ***.
The guitars began and then the drums until
the lady was among the wild eyed bunch.
Her colorful skirts, taffeta swished. bracelets graced
her slender arms, luscious breast heaved into sight;
men thought they would go blind.
And from her ears hung gold earrings dangling seven sparkling
moons. Her black eyes glistened as she made her snake like moves.
Her feet were bare and a golden scarf wound round her raven hair.
Slowly, She began her dance. to the ,melody of stars. The faster her body moved
her hips swung loose gyrating like in grooves.
Out of the shadows a dark figure appeared. No one noticed; her body was their
cheer. No one saw him pull out a knife and walk towards the girl.
Her torso grew more snake like with every ***** move.
His suit was black with silver studs.His boots were to the knee. A cigar hung out the side
of his mouth. His meanness was plain to see. At last the girl saw him. She whirled away towards
her wagon; a ****** threw himself before the stranger. To late, He kicked the little man and
then began his wager. His voice was like a fog horn, smoked poured from out his nose.
Rosanna .grabbed the wagon door. He reached and pulled her close. A golden object dropped
in the dirt, no one picked it up. He twisted the girl till her breast were glued to his chest.
“next time you rob me. you gypsy *****, be sure what you take.” he tore the other earring off
and flesh came along as well. He shoved her to the ground and kicked her in the belly.
“Try to pass off a dead brat now, to hell with you and many.” He threw the other earring down on
her blood soaked blouse. He strode passed the dazed men and leaped upon his horse.
The girl lay very still. No one moved till he was gone. Then they rushed to Rosanna
and saw her final blush. When he had been holding her he stuck his knife in her breast. She was dead
in the red dirt and *** soaked breaths.
A legend grew from this incident, Rosanna of the seven moons. Folks said she was with child. They said
she was a ruse. After the terror filled moment her body disappeared. All that was left was a golden earring
that turned out to be fools gold. The strangest thing that had happened ,all the men had been robbed, Their
love for Rosanna blotted out the loss. No one cared about the money. All they wanted was to see Rosanna
dance before their lust was lost.
Many years later, a stranger passing through, said he’d found a golden earring with seven large moons.
Read more: http://authspot.com/poetry/rosanna-and-the-seven-moons/#ixzz0tUwFn8hz
I heard this tale years ago from my mother who considered herself Queen of the Gypsies...
Written by
Kathleen Myra Colby
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