Whackamole

WHACK a mole, ineffably great mishear and misspell, the
PRINTed ‘guacamole’ on menu unremarked for years,
FREED, finally, posting foodie pics and someone
[E]QUIPs ‘orthographical genius’.

Not quite there yet

PRINT the news that I’ve been
FREED to stand up strong against my foes, to
EQUIP the world from head to toes.
WHACK! What? You gave me a bleeding nose!

[Possibly scraping the bottom of the barrel today...]

Raincoat

WRUNG out the soaked, saturated
RAINY-raincoat, feeling choked, abnegated,
FRAIL and revoked, bifurcated, my
MANIA well and truly at work again.

Frail Polis

FRAIL polis survives another contest,
MANIA may be waning, but also vitality:
WRUNG out, spent, knife edged poised:
RAINY days so long now, do we remember the sun?

Story’s flaw

STING of salty tears, remembering:
CIRCA 25, starting to realize the great limits,
DRAMA’s tragic seam, story’s flaw, is who I am.
BELLY for all this waned, then. Yet grace is deep enough.

Repetition

‘CIRCA’ turned up a week ago, so it
STINGs and gives me trauma to use it yet again. My
BELLY, in fact, has churned, like there’s a full-scale
DRAMA in the innards down below.