Today's poem is by Claudine Toutoungi

Martyrs
       

Sometimes we give them a hard time, the martyrs.
Look at you—we shout—with your tragic backstory
and your little legs and your incompetent veins.

Want me to knit you a hair-shirt? Sometimes we
shout that too (even though you can't knit hair). Or
we go Dudda Da Duuuh like we're Beethoven's

Fifth Symphony kicking in. The martyrs meanwhile
don't abate. They are dancing across the kingdoms
of this world and the next. They are relentless

terpsichoreans. Even their sneezes sound like Ravel's
Bolero. Even the candlewax dropped on their smocks
makes ornamental masterpieces of their sleeves.

Copyright © 2024 Claudine Toutoungi All rights reserved
from Emotional Support Horse
Carcanet Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission