For Marilyn, Son of my Man

a poem by Lila Joseph, USA - poetry writer, author, poet

Balthazaar came,
I borrowed his voice
screamed to the heavens
and the rocks shattered
into dust.

My sputum was acidulous
Drops of poisons,
eating everything not made of glass

I drank the water of life,
As were it cheap wine
Poured from skins of goats.

Bathe in deep pools
which brought forth
poisonous gasses,
and stood stiff from putrefaction,

I breathe this air
as I would the sweetest perfume.

Yes, Balthazaar came,
I borrowed his voice
And the world
Lay breathless at my feet.

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