Thursday, December 27, 2018

Hook Like a Hatchet

Hope like a wheel, poem
Like a steal, echoes, echoes
Even in the silent type

I set, I am when I am
Alone with no one
To tempt me into talking

Talking, always betrayal
Always theft and mimicry
But that’s just you, I’m not me

The words sail over
Anachronistic transoms
And I embrace them

Like a clean pond embraces
The arrival of fresh ducks
And, from duckshit, the duckweed

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.