lines beside the still freshwater


lines beside the still freshwater ( retawhserf llits eht ediseb senil )

nothing rhymes with mallard
orange is the tip

of a rhyme-less iceberg
& their echoes quack

birch above the bank side
gazes like narcissus

or your average selfie
shat on instagram

bubbles neath the surface
from the realm of mermen

maids & mini kraken
otters or a pike

scribble by this mirror
on a picnic table

with a tracker bar
& a can of irn bru

as the breeze is sneezing
though the mist persists

in the snooze of tuesday
waiting for excalibur

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