~

cryptic crossword love ( evol drowssorc citpyrc )

…

oh, my osmosis
in a satellite town
– perhaps a pickled plum?

i long for the touch
of your chartered accountant
gargling milk
in a rabbit hutch

& i daydream of kissing
your sweet peruvian
bothering owls
in a haunted sauna

like an anagram
of sixteen down
without the evening gown

but fate is a gibbon
eating orange omelettes
inside a giant blue shoe

& the day’s a sailor
skipping on the pier
with a priestly earwig
– not you

…