The pelican cocks higher her wing
for good get at. Nibbling the blister
and siphoning the mud by bill to the brood.
Hey, how did the consecration go?
Aristophanes and Judas, but not
Johns. Memphis' (emphasis mine)
on the Mississippi, but not on the Nile.
Hey, how was the peroration?
The bronzer devises a rapprochement,
the mulcher, the parents, the host. She
plans to rephotograph the memorial bench.
So, what was the beseechment like?
Bluing was a way to whiten, the bottle of
bluing agent reads. It takes its place
beside the finish. Or should I have said solution?
Hey, where will you be for Thanksgiving?
Or else I were alone in thinking something
had been in the air, a frost phenomenon,
a pestilence, the AM station's affiliate switch.
But, then, who gave the benediction?
With a tail as big as a kite, for something that
by itself repeats. The windsock on the helipad
and blame enough to go around.
So, what was the turnout in the end?
Two in a pew, one stressed,
the turn down in the thread of her halo
screwy. And whose little boy is he?
- Brian Blanchfield
