The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Triumphancy

Burst from the pyre and
awash in diamond shards
I am the scintillant
bitter to the taste yet
unforgettably savory and
gravid with lost attic spices
of a dusty medicine shop,
whiskeyful and leather
I prance among the woodshop
planings with oil-stained hands
and odorous sulphur pits
I am regasketed and turning over
at the fresh jolt of the
thermoclines on which I glide
untouchable and judged
lighter than Ma'at's[1] feather.
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