Today's poem is by Rachel Abramowitz

Flea with Martyrdom
       

I.
I was outside myself, shearing
lambs small as snowy planets,
            when the wind, that blasted
            scholar, tied the ends of my hair
together with ash and lo, I was
wifed. Our dream recurs,
            rancor dull as pewter.
            I take up the rusted calipers,
squeeze each stretching shadow.

II.
I haven't thought
            this much in decades. It's uncomfortable
            where I live. I live there forever,
wander with my flapping
standard from room to room,
            make up clouds
            and beneath them,
more clouds. What luck!
I wear the Epaulets of Reason
            over my ordinary burial clothes.
            I kneel every chance I get.

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Copyright © 2023 Rachel Abramowitz All rights reserved
from Colorado Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission