Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Tabouli in past tense two

TABOULI PERFORMER II
The rebirth of the Tabouli Performer took place just a few weeks before the birth of my first child, Zeynoun. I returned to my original text and Salwa, my hysterical house wife played the starring role. Lying on a long kitchen table looking up at the audience I told Salwa's story. With a lot of help from Irigaray, and my mum's excellent Tabouli the tale was told once again. Looking very pregnant and sounding very hungry, my mouth uttered a noise, a language, a silence.
My body is a map, one that leads to nowhere.
They map out my body and
carve it into strategic borders.
Here comes the knife.
A border divides my head from my body.
Cartesian dualism has done its share.
For security purposes, another border will form,
a
perpendicular line with the first
as it progresses all the way down to my
belly-button.
Finally,
my feet are fenced off into separate parts.
I am now
ready to be served
on a spiffy clean and silver-plated platter.
as an appetiser Tabouli is always preferred.
but for today i guess,
I
will do.



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