Wednesday, February 21, 2024



Am Cupid’s daughter.

Mistake and design begot me.

Under the silver sun,

I brush away my identity.

A few blots here, a few strokes there,

And all the men gather round me.

The people above,


Glare down at me,

Yet, still I dance

And cherish this ineffable circumstance.

I spend the nights

Swinging between restless arms,

Swathed in sordid kisses

And garnished with love bites.

Beyond this place

Of discord and hate,

I move my hips

And feel the night

Gently stroke my face

With the long, dark blades of its fingers.

I go home,

Smelling like a thousand men.

My flamboyance

Lures natural nonconformists

Out of their comfort.

I shake their grounds

With every coaxing sway,

Until I mitigate their pangs

Of unjustified guilt.

Passersby under the sun

Think I’m a harlequin.

But all I am

Is a goddess,

Devoid of coarse remorse.

My very being is nothing

But benign poison.

When the harrowing hour of the dawn strikes,

Ghost-quiet as every truth awakes,


And only then,

Does my freedom disintegrate

Back into the infinite sunset.

Only then,

Do I see

What they see

Only then,

Just then,

Do I remember,

I am somebody’s son.

This poem was previously published in Rusted Radishes, the Beirut Literary and Art Journal, founded in 2012. 

Joseph Poladian

Joseph Poladian is a 20-year-old student of English literature at the Lebanese University. He has been passionate about the written word ever since he knew what different combinations of the alphabet can do. Being an avid reader, he started writing his own poems and short stories, experimenting with words, genres, and structure.

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