They're all parasites, He says.
Fleas on His back and nape
his tridents tail His fiery mane.
They circle around His burning boils
licking their ashes - anguished dust
they crawl through the labyrinths
-of His eyes taking subway journeys
to crumbling monolithic churches
suckling on blood and brimstone
and fire! They call themselves,
banker's tourist asylum seekers
stock-exchange material world leaders
they call themselves
foreign exchange students?
Liberated economic market equity slaves
they call themselves the avant-garde
but they're all his brothers
His suckling sisters
His riving desires, His lust
flea-like rolling around on their bellies
whispering please 'Lord, save us.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem