image by sarolta ban
elective affinity
I mistake it for
a clever game,
a kind of spoonerism,
switched letters
meant to lay cool
in your dry wit;
my mind plays tricks,
vowels shoot like spit.
Three well-hammered words
catch me from behind,
thrust tall, straight-up
without stammer.
tess kincaid
Posted over on her site Life at Willow Manor
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