Cataloguing irony A slipped up meter No sense indicated Per pound of flesh Like a grisly walk Through gathered harvests With haunted steeples Sweeping gains into slimed pools There really is no matter to it Just a basic logic To tell itself it has reason And provide the proofs Through incomplete sentence structures Meaning anything to anyone else Why hide the limit within soft edges? Why slip the signs through indistinct tunnels? Why read sharp points in random datasets? A gently forming crucible could have manifested
©Sherri-Lee Lavender 2021 (Lavender-Green)
Comments