[lit-ideas] Re: Sunday Poem,

Never A Cross Word When They Died

At home our larder, all the way up and down, has this dead moth motif,
which is my fault, for letting some of them in, but
nonetheless and withall, when you push this aside,
and acknowledge that indeed some animals have been harmed,
have lost their good gloss finish,
one begins in still moments to wonder,
I suppose we all wonder,
how best to decipher
such smudged blobs.


"Mixed messages," could we substitute "blended"?
"Drawn game," sketchy, but shortly mended?
"Army division," is this the modern major-general's glued command?
"Promise," what isit  we don't have to hand?
"Regular," now not only the smallest size of giants, but a desire.
"Nibbles," that which is not chewed by immigrants.
"Riddles," things long gone, from fashion?
"Bibles," homes of many interesting verses, may be over-quoted.
"Fondles," set of sexual moves, living mostly in memory, strictly rationed,
"The lesser of two weevils," chosen by commanders, often bloated.


David Ritchie
Portland, Oregon


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