Words
are tough enough,
and now you tell me to measure them in meter and rhyme.
To dress them, position them like fruit in a bowl.
Words, ink blots, charcoal smears, audibles,
never good enough, always second best.
Word sage?
Please,
tell me how to put fire words on a cold line,
tell me how to save the gut words that drown in my throat,
the ones that never reach my lips,
the ones that never leave my pen.
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