Untitled 1.

THE WORDS melted wetly together

Slickly sliding across the page.

I was dubious; unsure whether

I could, should, would control my rage.

–

Confined to this fibrous vehicle

The seeping slowed gracefully like

Honeyed thought. Soothed by the treacle

Glow of newly found delight.

–

Then it’s liquid limitations

Congeal, curdle; all thickened.

Each wet syllable, parched then, shines

With a light, cloyingly hardened.