Less a surprise than defining where th’ cocoon
starts and ends; wrapped in a microfine web of
the finest filigree strands yet free to gaze at the
geste of Guam’s innocence - whose policy’s an
arthritic concupiscence ‘of mandoline melody’,
a good guess suggests this ‘cuisine’ won’t rate
much beyond next mezzanine belch of rhetoric
from this blonde-horned gander’s gay wisdom
But we’ll be staying bound within our carapace,
a just-in-case strategy, & maybe ‘tweet-less’ or
is it too much t’ bear being unaware; not that it
worries me, I don’t care what they bleat into th’
atmosphere, or there being no sense since the
denizen facetiously tossed in its handkerchief
© 17 August 2017, I. D. Carswell
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