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For my torturer, Lieutenant D.

I have slapped
- no one had ever done -
electricity and
your fist
and that language from hooligan
too bloody for us to put blush

a locomotive all night in the belly
rainbows before the eyes
was as if I ate my mouth and drown
I had my eyes

hands everywhere and a great desire to laugh.
Then one morning, came another soldier resembled
you like a drop of blood
your wife, Lieutenant,
put sugar in your coffee?
Your mother dared to admire your good wax? You
stroked the hair of your kids?

Leila Djabali, Algerian poet, born in Algiers in 1940, captured and tortured by the French in prison in 1957 Barberousse