Individual Humor, by Marilyn Braendeholm

Individual Humor
by Marilyn Braendeholm

I heard your voice
deep in the swirl
of a nautilus shell,

heard you laughing
in a language I
didn’t understand,

as if humor
was breath and blood.
A priest’s liturgy.

I often wonder which words
leave you humorless.
Which mantra unwraps you
like God’s gift.

It should be a birthright,
humor, like ears. Toes.
Feet have such a sad
sense, don’t you think.

Note: Written in response to Red Wolf Prompt 412.

Marilyn (aka Misky) Braendeholm’s work is regularly published in monthly issues of Waterways Poetry in the Mainstream, and Ten Penny Players.

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