The arrest warrant for Ol' Khayyam's head is about to be served, before dawn, at the newly-built Lake Mosque...

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Twenty

Trillion pin-pricks of the sticky mists surround the mosque’s turret
Shrouding the pallid angular slabs of the Faithfuls outlet:
Even the muzzled pit-bulls marshaled out in the cold winced.
At the sharp tweet of the Commandant’s whistle car-lights uplit

Like some otherworld Xanadu the mosque loomed ethereal
Floating on fizzing cloud mists in a sky turned surreal:
“Awake! And unbar the portals,” boomed the thick-chested Chief,
“Dawn’s disapproving face frowns down upon us in denial !”

Some penitent come for early fajr prayer called out in fear:
“Who art thou in armour-bound black hidden by helmet visor?
Is this some Garth Varda come to task? Or some Spielberg quest?
The cock summons not the day nor doves huddle in the clear.”

“We’ve come to serve a warrant for the arrest of a miscreant.
Go! Tell the Imam forthwith! Wake the Holy Incumbent!”
So hollered the Commune Chief’s barrel-chested Commandant.
“Grand Officier of the Légion d’honneur, pray be patient!”

Silhouetted against shiny walls stood the stout robot force
Not an arm stirred though eyes stayed peeled with ears to the boss
When into headlights strode the jellaba-draped Prophet’s servant:
“What heinous crime hath brought the Caliph’s wrath down upon US!”

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014