Author: David Wright

SHRUB, arbusto, bush,
ASCOT, waistcoat, fascinator,
COMMA, colon, m-dash,
SHAWL, pashmina, scarf.

VOWEL—the sounds that sing?
EXILEs from beauty those stops and liquids?
FUDGE! For, how can you not like every sound in, say, fudge?
SMART money is on all the sounds.

COUNT your days! They always
HALVE: those gone, those ahead. Yet, the second set are ever
RARER. You may long to
DALLY. But your sandclock’s sand is running out.

FLECK of something in the
CREAM. This is a
GUMMY, say sticky, spot, what with
UPPER crust guests and my desire to please

GHOULish ghosts, not just in Hungary,
THINK, in the deep hours of the night, they’ve a point to make,
BLARE, gibber, grouse—yet unheard.
TOPIC?—materiality is not so cool—they’ll show it, once they lay hands on it.

GOODY! Linguistic intuition confirmed.
MURAL, a spark of beauty, now partially scraped off by a
LORRY, errant, dented, partially wrecked.
ERROR! This kind of damage is done by a TRUCK.

CARATs count, yet less than the beholder’s gaze, the thief thinks as
TWANG! goes the crossbow, carrying cable to vitrine, much like the
FLAME of longing carries her heart to the diamond within.
‘THETA’, is what she calls what longing adds to the price. ‘Common sense’ is what the museum calls the silent alarm now going off.

HEFTY asteroid, say Everest sized—
GAZER has a few seconds to ponder,
SWOON, or startle, while new epoch descends,
DRAMA’s act closing, making way for what is next.

RACER across the heaves never outstrips
CHOIR singing Sanctus, singing Gloria.
FLAME singers being consumed, spent when fuel is spent? No,
ADAPT to eternal frame: some work does not grind down the worker.

MAJOR Squish must craft the battle-plan,
CHOSE troops, train and deploy.
IDEAL of cnidarian peace is just that, an ideal. Now it’s each
JELLY tribe for itself. Only us jellies will look out for us jellies.