monday’s tongue


monday’s tongue ( a quatro-nonrick for all seasons & cheeses )

the car alarms as grey dawn slurps

on nettle tea as puddles chirp

an almost song

of dawdle on

as monday's tongue - it tastes the dirt

the cow remarks in terse excerpts

fluorescently as knee pads jerk

the blow blows free

as bus stops sneeze

& old goats float as leopards lurk

the sun is dark as acorns burp

incessantly & shepherds smirk

but still the swans

they slide along

with shiny ties & ironed shirts

the dog's all bark as curtains shirk

collectively yet blind perk

as bumble bees

they clutch at keys

so possibly - things just might work

( ? )


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