wordling herds

the words you select
may like sugar confect
or like rain, bring an end to a drought

they may also inspire
indignation and ire
or weaken the knees of the stout

if a word feels right
as it slips past your bite
then that’s good enough, have no doubt

if your meaning got skewed
and it started a feud
you may just get boxed in the snout

but don’t second guess
at your word salad mess
if your audience won’t come about

at the end of the night
they will quibble and fight
so be even, there’s no need to shout

pointed, sharp, bitter

thinking of beauty, its
recollection mining the tunnels of memory

you will likely spend your dotage
reliving a misspent youth

teaching your bones to ache
now you over-salt your stews

each missing tooth tells
its own tale of neglect

that long search for meaning
had drifted like a whiff of something

through the reeds, the red-winged blackbird
chirping her hints, the deer fly the

cattail down snagged on a fallen honey locust
the dry chuckle of leaf litter underfoot

you spent the bulk of it in cities
trapped in that concrete condom

where face muscles fight
against their own worried smiles

flashing below those void eyes
like the parched easement

of a dry spell oystershell
bitter in its own happy way

round pegs in square graves
one foot already in when

her cervix dilated and you
didn’t even have a name

but your first utterance
was plaintive, and loud


Written with the above pictured ephemera as a prompt.