The challenge of finding poems in a box of magnets . . .
#3 In My Library of Beautiful Lies*
In my library of beautiful lies, the monster escapes his poison father-- the rue and gall of his life usurped by a strange peace that heals the way ice would devour a fever or cool a ferocious star. And for him, he who was born of death, I make a smile flower miscreant red upon his lips, for I am a sister to much that is cracked and broken. So let his pariah music roil the clever angels. He can wander where he likes. With profligate eye and heart, he will be my wild scholar, hero of epic joy. *See also Writing the Walls 2020 Poems |