Gold Git

Pyetr Turgidovsky, as we saw two posts ago, refers to the sun as that ‘gold git’ – a phrase that immediately rang a bell with me, for reasons I have since discovered. I was, of course, thinking of a poem by Tomas Lurgsy, in which the ever-wonderful Bulgarian bard employs not dissimilar language to describe that burning ball of gas we hold so dear.

The poem in question is a late work and, thus, less obscure than a lot of his earlier stuff (bits of which my wife is wont to call ‘feckless jabber’). Growth and Loss is the name of the poem and these are the lines that screeched, like a train on icy tracks, through the cold dark tunnels of my mind:

we watched again
that great gold bitch
the hottest girl I ever met
who turned me down, yet
every night for
someone on the other side

Not a git, then, but a bitch.

(A little more on Tomas Lurgsy here, with a last chance to vote on a mysteriously smudged word)

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