Death Row

Reza Aramesh


The girl is lying naked on one of the pallets. The boy straddles her with an insolent grin. One of her hands caresses his penis with the delicate ritual gestures of a temple dancer. She shifts her lions and with two fingers pulls him down flush with her lean belly.  The bodies are losing outline dissolving in blue light exploding up through the white canyons of Tangier streets through the clattering flags through the smeared arabesque of a dancing boy’s ass spurting over mud walls under a sun that grabs the flesh into goose pimples.

William S. Burroughs