Roadkill

With the perseverance of a procrastinator,
I spilled out diasporas of dysfunctional poetry,
It used to be as easy as pulling strings of hay,
From the scarecrow’s slender acumen

A nubile lexicographer with one eyebrow raised,
Wondered when she was last nostalgic,
When her days were sewn together with a hammock thread,
And her nights pierced with wind-chime echoes

But alas! Now she reads my words,
With subtle tolerations of caffeine and morphine,
My roadkill diction she scrapes off the highways,
Picking up dried feelings and flakes of a pastel ambition

Tipping over the topography of her accentuating curves,
I cart-wheeled across her naked eloquence,
Kissing exhaust pipes for centuries left me deflated,
I wanted to breathe in her jealousy again

The dispassionate lexicographer with one eyebrow raised,
Sighed the sigh of a reluctant hope,
And inflated my carcass with a kiss from her lips,
“Shoo!”, she said patting my back, “run away now”.



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